Boys Don't Cry
by Arisa K
Summary: A regular nightly visitation suddenly shifts into something more intense, leading both participants on a path they'd never thought possible. Reno/Tifa. Chapter 6 added.
1. One Night

"Boy's Don't Cry"  
Chapter 1: One Night

It wasn't a particularly busy night, but most customers who visited the little bar seemed to be suffering from the same ailment--Monday night blues. The beginning of the work week for most individuals, and the stress to wear and tear on their spirits. They drowned such sorrows and labor-filled memories in amber bliss or crystal abandon. But it was when the patrons departed the facility that the bartenders' poison was pulled from its confinements.

Perhaps she didn't agonize over the same situations as her regular customers did, but she felt the same wear, the same heartbreak, the same bruising as they dealt with in their day-to-day routines. Perhaps hers was a might bit more complicated, a decade long issue, but who was really counting the mind twisting years?

He was out again. It had to have been weeks, perhaps a month-she'd lost count. This time he hadn't graced her with a parting word, but rather a small note with little explanation to his whereabouts. 'Business calls,' it read, 'I'll be back, not sure when. Give the kids my best.'

The recollection of the print struck a rather bitter chord within the bartender as she fingered the rim of her half devoured bottle of red wine. Her poison. The poison she used to try to forget a certain blonde roommate, yet it never would completely do the trick. Sure, she'd be tainted with the mind altering fluid, a false smile plastered to her face as she would remember a happy time and place that would only exist in a realm of dreams and fantasies always to be unplugged by a reality she couldn't mold into a world she could happily claim.

It was unfair to state that she was completely miserable. She had her bar, Marlene and Denzel, her travel distant but emotionally close friends...it wasn't all dead weeds and rotting bark. There were roses in the backyard, yet it was also impossible to completely overlook the deadwood--

Tifa Lockhart snapped toward the door in a rush, eyes wide and fists tight before her. The sound of a second breath finally caught her divided attention, rousing her away from her fabricated internal reality. A bright, crimson tasseled mullet caught her eye, and in that solid moment what was once unwavering alert and predatory guard glinting in her eyes, instantly shifted to annoyance as her lids narrowed to slits as she lowered her fists carefully to the top of the bar counter she stood behind. She was so lost in her own world, she didn't even hear him take a seat in a stool directly behind her, "You ought to know better than to sneak up on people."

The intruder, seated languidly upon the barstool directly in front of the bartender, grinned broadly as he traced a calloused index finger across his chin. Stubble was present just above the skin, but barely enough to notice in the existing dim light, "And you need to remember to lock the door after closing time. Were you hoping I, your favorite customer, would stop by?"

Appearing mildly perturbed and a tad embarrassed, Tifa pressed her lips together and turned her attention away from the off-duty Turk. It's not like it wasn't the first time she'd left the door unlocked, hoping a certain someone would stroll across the threshold because he had forgotten his keys to the complex. She_ hoped _he just forgot them anyway... "Well, it is past closing time. Will you leave on your own accord or do I have to call the authorities on you for trespassing?"

"Baby, I practically own the authorities!" Reno replied, laughter tinged throughout the rebuttal. He had visited after hours on several occasions, and though usually he'd give warning in the form of a knock at the door even though he knew the door was often unlocked whenever Cloud disappeared for weeks at a time, tonight just seemed like a change of pace was in order. But as always, he was sure to lock the door behind him.

Lockhart shook her head, her fingers pressed to the polished wood, white and tense with the pressure. It was clear she was attempting to retain a temper she didn't usually possess, but tonight happened to be one of those nights where her mood wasn't in tiptop form. It was well past midnight, the trials of the day were wearing on her shoulders, and the taste of sweet crimson escape was awaiting her attention. "Just...go home, Reno."

He looked incredulous at that moment. Perhaps Reno wasn't the brightest fish in the aquarium, but did occasionally pay attention to the finer detail of a person and their moods--after all, he was a Turk and such a skill proved effective in his line of work. "Well looky here," he said with a smirk, not moving an inch despite the prior request, "I've stepped up on the ladder of hospitality. I used to be dubbed as simply 'Turk'. Going soft, busty?"

Instantly a heated glare appeared on her features. It was obviously clear at this point that she was absolutely in no disposition for a good old-fashioned tease by a rotten old enemy. Even after all these years, and despite the help he and his brigade of misfits enlisted with the mishap appearance of the silver-haired trio, he still had a way of bringing her blood to its boiling point during the worst possible times of her existence. Normally beaming with patience, it was just a really, really bad time...

"Reno, just don--"

"Oh Tifa I was only jokin' with ya," the scarlet haired man cut her off in a hurry, realizing he was about to cross some boundaries that she might not forgive so easily this time. It wasn't uncommon to exchange some banter at such late hours with her, but it was clear something was weighing heavily on her mind. Pushing too hard was sure to get him kicked out permanently, and quite painfully at that, "I just wanna relax . Cut a guy a break won't ya? One drink...two drinks..." he paused to catch her eye, attempting some sincerity in his tone and vision, "...and I'll be outta your hair faster than a Chocobo in a gunfight."

The glare within her brown eyes lingered for a moment before it dissolved, replaced by something a bit deeper and even melancholy. She submitted to the request not out of want, but out of the knowledge of knowing he wouldn't vacate the premises quietly without his want being met. Besides, she did feel bad for being so harsh with him. Sometimes, even though she didn't like to admit it in the least, his company was rather...pleasant, in some sick, disturbing fashion.

Pushing from the counter without a word, she gathered a few bottles from her cabinets and set them aside. Taking off one of the recently cleaned mugs from the ivory drying rack, she poured several portions from the retrieved liquor bottles into the glass as if she'd been mixing since birth. She added an extra splash of tequila, one of the drinks' main ingredients for an additional kick--just how he liked it.

She set the bottle in hand away from her grasp--and his--and slid his blue concoction into his open, awaiting hand. She barely heard him speak as she casually scooped her wine and glass in hand and rounded the counter to his side, "One thing about you, Lockhart, I don't even have to drink it to know it's perfect."

Strangely enough, she took in the little compliment with some satisfaction, nodding in acceptance as she poured a glass of her own choice of liquids and took the stool beside him, "Which would have one assume is why I'm the only one you pester an hour after closing."

Reno only mildly acknowledged her playful comment, his eyes trained on the red wine she sipped, bringing the tip of the glass carefully to her lips and taking a savory taste of the refined contents, "...Red wine? You've got some expensive taste, eh?" He smirked a little before finishing his thought aloud, "I only touch the stuff if it's a special occasion or I'm feeling exceptionally contemplative. Don't balk--it happens."

"It's an old bottle..." Tifa replied rather too quickly, passing up the opportunity to toy with him over his confession. It was then she recalled making a point not to drink her guilty pleasure in front of company, especially someone like him. She was content with keeping it her little secret, but for some reason this visitation had set everything off balance. But again, she was being unfair. It had nothing at all to do with Reno... "No one was drinking it."

The Turk didn't buy it. And while in most situations that closely resembled this one he'd refrain from digging further for the truth, tonight just felt different. It felt _very_ different, "What's on your mind?" He ignored the fact that a bottle that no one was drinking, was already half gone.

Perhaps it was because she was taken off guard by the question, or the sudden shift of discomfort in the atmosphere that she snapped so suddenly. "Nothing that's any of your business."

Reno wasn't the type to just let something go once it's been started. He'd keep probing way past dawn until she gave him something tangible, "It's not that Strife guy is it?" The look on her face was priceless. It was a cross between shock, horror, and complete humiliation. But instead of poking at the wound... "You waste your time."

"You wouldn't know anything about that..." She muttered quietly, brushing her fingers tenderly against the wine glass. Did everyone know about her internal struggles with the man, the childhood friend, the love of her life that keeps disappearing? The man who falls further and further away from her fingertips? She waited, and held out hope for this long...why give up now?

The Turk nodded slightly, taking a long swing of his 'walk-me-down', his gaze staying clear of Tifa's glazed-over stare, "Ah, guess not. Love was never my forte." He paused for some dramatic effect, a devious smile coming to claim his face, "But sex on the other hand..."

The bartenders' attention fell away from the counter top and landed upon Reno with such an icy touch he might have shivered had the alcohol not begun to warm him from the inside, "Reno..." She threw up a defensive wall with just that one word.

Unfortunately for her, Reno wasn't so easily deterred. He sensed the cold shift in temperature, the automatic defenses, the alarm system with code in place and a sign which read 'No trespassing'. Since when did anything stop someone like him from at least trying?

He turned to face her, a cocky, yet curious grin taking its place as he regarded her calmly, "How long has it been, Tifa? A year? Two years? Has it _ever_ happened to you? Are you a white priestess sitting atop the monastery waiting for your God of Penetration?"

On the outside she appeared furious as color betrayed her embarrassment as it crept into her cheeks, her hand clenching the wine bottle knowing the wine glass would shatter under the pressure were she to hold it. However, on the inside, she felt like a deer caught in a headlight. She was utterly horrified by the turn of the conversation, and wanted nothing more than for it to stop, "Reno, please! It's none of your business!"

But Reno wasn't about to put the brakes on this--not when it was starting to get pretty damn good. He abandoned his drink as he leaned forward in his knees as his green eyes blazed into her, "How can you sit on it so long? Don't you ever want a release from the pressure? Make those fantasies in your mind become a reality? Well, the ones that don't have to do with a blond dipshit with an oversized sword?"

The look in his eyes said it all. Yet she had to hear it. She had to _know _what he was insinuating before her reaction would be justified. Hell, she would have exploded with high pitched laughter had what he said not had some inkling of truth to it. Yes, she would love a release, but that's where it became so complicated...

Forcing herself to release the wine bottle, she placed both hands atop her knees and squeezed, "...Are you trying to tell me something?"

There was amusement in his eyes now, and he did chuckle just a touch, but he never moved. He seemed so serious in that swift instant, "I was. But I think I'm better off being blunt." What he had been thinking about for months, every night he waltzed into this bar at such an hour to engage in a tumble of witty banter, to look upon that perfect form of a fighter and a woman. He had always wondered what it would be like with her for just...

"One night. That's all there has to be."

She didn't say yes. But she didn't say no. In fact, she was a little too dumbfounded to do anything. One would think it would have been easy to just brush off such a request. In fact, it wasn't the first time he'd made it. All of those other times...were never like this. He always had a sparkle of mischievousness, a humored glint in his eye as he'd make the pass. She dodged it easily, and the conversation would either continue, or the sloppy drunk Turk that made the request would stumble over the threshold in a roar of laughter or teasing pout of rejection. Tonight was different for two key reasons...

He wasn't drunk, and he wasn't kidding.

"Another word..." Her mind was reeling for something to say, something to turn the direction of the current conversation, but her mind fell blank, and she was left vulnerable to his heated stare. The redness in her cheeks wasn't fading in the least. If anything, the color deepened to the point where it was impossible to miss, even in the slight lack of decent lighting.

"Oh Tifa, is that a blush?" The redhead was taking full advantage, scooting smoothly to the edge of his stool, coming way too close for Tifa's comfort. Then again, he didn't think there was any real comfort left to take, "Say another word and what, I might convince you?" He chuckled softly, taking too much pleasure from her swift change in emotions presented not only on her face, but body language as well. And to think, he nearly attended a poker game instead of this fine piece of entertainment. "That's fine. I don't need words at all to show you how fucking amazing it'll be. Maybe you're right though. One night from me is never enough." He cocked his eyebrows, flashing a look of seductive intimidation. He could have sworn he saw her... squirm.

Tifa Lockhart was beyond uncomfortable. However, it wasn't from his suggestion, but from her brief desire to accept. Over these several months she and the Turk had become a bit more acquainted due to his regular nightly visits. Sometimes he would divulge information of his past deeper than he had with any other living being--at least, that's what he told her. But there was always a truth to his words when the intoxication became clear. How he lived on the streets from the day he turned eleven years old, a dead mother and abusive stepfather back home. A sick, senile grandmother he began to care for once he was accepted into the Turks organization who had died only three years later. She even knew her name. And in turn, she touched upon her past as well, the things that didn't involve Sephiroth and the painful memories that began the grand adventure of her life--he knew all of the rough patches due to Shinra documents. And to her undisguised surprise, he listened intently and even asked questions. When she truly thought about it, they were closer than she cared to admit.

"Don't...I won't be used. I..." Her words were nearly trembling as she forced the words from inside her throat. No, she didn't want to be used--who really did? But there was a demonic temptation that just licked at her senses that she pulled out all the internal stops to keep at bay. There was always another's name in the back of her head...

Reno was beginning to catch an inkling of truth--she was actually beginning to break down. As often as they had exchanged teases, personal jokes, and playful advances, he had never known the martial artist to crash so easily and early in his arrival. "We'll be using each other." His words took on a deadly serious tone, "Just one night. No ties. No binds. I know you want something to fill that void, even if it's momentary. Don't deny yourself that pleasure. I'm here, and I'm willing. No search required." This wasn't playful Reno anymore. There was much more weight in those words than there would have been nights ago. He really wanted this, and was convinced that somewhere within her, she did too. He had watched her sad eyes too often, heard the despondent tone of her voice too much, become too close to this old enemy to let her suffer any longer without presenting her with a way to at least dull the pain. The rest she would have to handle on her own.

Lockhart avoided his gaze completely, locking her eyes to the hands at her knees which clenched so tight she knew there would be a pattern of fingertip bruises around the caps. She knew they weren't playing anymore, and she just couldn't bring herself to give a definite yes or no. Did some part of her want him to attempt to convince her of the possibilities one night with him she could appreciate? Did she really want to forget all about... _him_?

She sighed. The place in her heart that cradled the memory of her traveling childhood friend simply wouldn't allow a complete release. She knew she'd be plagued by guilt that she didn't deserve to feel. "I couldn't do that to him. I can't..." The words were more to herself than to the company before her, yet those whispered words were heard loud and clear...

The Turk nearly scowled, apparent frustration written all over his pale face. He wasn't even there and he was still the driving wedge between her and some miniscule of happiness! "To him? To someone who isn't yours to feel guilty about? And you...you belong to no one." His tone had almost taken on a tone of hostility, an immediate switch from the former that was pressing, yet still gentle. But as if a light went off above his red mane, his eyes brightened with a revelation, "Wait...it all makes sense now... "

Tifa didn't speak as he continued, this time looking to his eyes, a flash of warning behind the dark irises, "You hope, you pray, you whine and cry yourself to sleep at night thinking he'll notice the personal sacrifice you make to yourself and come to you on hands and knees spilling his spiky-assed guts to you about how much he loves you. You--and not that soggy flower girl at the bottom of--"

It seemed to be the straw that broke the camels' back. A sharp sound of skin-to-skin reverberated throughout the establishment as Reno's head snapped to its' left side. The expression on his reddened face was that of casual surprise, but nowhere near shock. Even he, in the back of his mind, suspected something of that nature was on its way. This time, he really couldn't blame her. He had said those things to hurt her, but also help her to think. In the process, he had stepped over a line he hadn't meant to cross, and stepping back over it might take more precious time he was willing to give. But when he turned back to face his assailant, he didn't expect to find tears.

They had betrayed her, the tears she'd fought with for weeks when he abandoned the family once again on one of his journeys he never did speak about in detail. The wine helped keep them inside, the bar helped her from thinking about his absence, and while the children asked of his whereabouts, it was their youth and innocence that kept her strong.

She was just too tired to be strong anymore.

"...Yes..." she said quietly, refusing to look away from him this time. He had hurt her, insulted her, but he had also called it dead on. Her calm was frightening, her words filled with intensity as she fought to further keep her hands to herself, "Yes, that's what I want. And what the hell kind of fucking right do you have to waltz in here and degrade my fantasy like it's nothing but piss from a tonberry?"

Reno matched her calm, though there was a touch of anxiety as he'd never heard her curse before. Damn did his cheek hurt, but he wasn't about to cradle the crimson skin, which surely matched his hair by now, "I take any right I want to. That's one thing in your puny little idealistic existence you haven't learned." He stood to tower over her, as if to gain back some humility he lost from the prior injury to his cheek and ego, "You give give give, and what the hell do you have to show for it? A little hole in the wall bar for drunks like me, and losers like Strife."

It was obvious as the tears dried that the sadness was replaced by anger, the sheer audacity of this Turk causing the switch. She had a right mind to toss him out by the collar into the slick streets of Midgar where he belonged. She stood as well, to prove she was in no way affected by his height. She stood several inches shorter than his person, but there was no doubt in her mind she could break him before he knew what happened, "Shut up Reno and get the hell out of my bar!"

And before Reno knew what he was saying, he switched gears, "Prove me wrong, you Avalanche crony." He took a step closer, his eyes tearing into her narrowed ones. But as the seconds ticked by, his green eyes softened, a slight smirk showing upon his lips as his fingers grazed her elbows. She flinched, but didn't move, "I didn't come here to fight with you. Hell, I didn't even really come here to fuck you, but it's a primary objective on my mind now, and it's something it seems you can use..."

She was dumbfounded once, and as luck would have it, he managed to accomplish this feat a second time. His rough fingertips sent an entourage of shivers through her veins. He'd never touched her like this. Hell, it'd been longer than she could remember that she'd been touched by anyone like this. It had her mind reeling back to the previous conversation, the one that began this heated battle of words and heartbreak reminder. The close proximity was suddenly enough to suffocate, forcing her to focus on her breath. She would not back down. She told him to get the hell out of her bar, and she was sticking to that. "Reno..." The name came out tender, gentle, barely backed by any sort of warning tinge. Her secret desires, her longing for a warm, masculine touch was treacherous to her better judgment. This moment could very well be her downfall.

He stepped even closer, only a hair of distance separating the two as those fingertips brushed up from her elbows and to her shoulders. He felt the goose bumps beneath his fingers stand against her bare skin. He knew he was getting somewhere. Perhaps her mind was protesting, but her body would eventually betray her. "One night, babe. Tonight, that's it." A small caress to her jaw line as he pushed several strands of dark, silken hair from her cheek, "For one night in your life, I'll make you feel like you've died and taken a dive into the Lifestream..." His other hand mimicked the actions of the first, sending both into a descent down her back. He felt a tremble beneath his palms as he rested them to the small of her back, "I'll set you on fire from the inside out," When he glanced to her eyes and could see no protest, his lips slowly approached her ear, and like a delicate whisper in the October wind, he spoke the words that sealed the offer, "I'll... make... you... scream..."

Any protest that might have come to surface died upon her tongue. Instead, a gasp sounded from her parted mouth as she felt a pair of foreign lips press against the side of her neck. An onslaught of tingling sensations coursed from her toes to fingertips, her insides oozing like molten lava. She already felt as if she were burning, and she needed desperate assistance to put out the rising flames.

The attentions moved from her neck to earlobe as Reno relished in the open door opportunity he was presented. The brunette was doing nothing to halt his advances, so he pushed forward. Teasing and nipping the flesh between his lips, he knew he heard a subdued, but nevertheless urgent moan. God, how long _had_ it been for her? Work had consumed the better part of him, so it had been several months and he was ready to go ballistic. However, he was gentle with her, suspecting it had been for a longer stretch than earlier assumed, and he didn't wish to scare her when he was so close to his endeavor. He'd gotten this far, why blow it with insatiable hormonal desperations?

Before he knew it, she had pulled completely away from the Turk. The disappointment in his eyes was clear with no hint of apology. She looked as if she'd been slapped. An eye for an eye, he supposed. But her next course of action sent him spinning. It was she who completely closed the distance, her arms locking around his neck, reaching upon the tips of her toes to capture his rose-tinted lips. Her kiss wasn't gentle at all, but urgent and needing and even savage. Reno was more than happy to oblige the demand.

She could hardly believe what she was doing, but it took only seconds for her to throw caution to the wind and be swept helplessly by her body's heat. It consumed her like a raging fire, bursting from every pore of her being. She felt her feet abandon the floor beneath, and for a moment she thought she was floating. Upon hearing several glasses shatter, she came to the realization she was being placed upon her bar counter. There was no more care, no more worry, no more anger. Just the need, the desire, the passion that held her prisoner in iron shackles.

The red-haired Turk kneaded his eager hands into her hips, tasting and abusing the lips his mouth tried to consume. She tasted of wine, and a hint of something sweeter. This reality was quickly rivaling his fantasy of the woman. In his fantasy, things were quick, raw, and almost animalistic. Now that reality was giving him the chance to make it come true, he instead felt the need to take his time, to make this one mean _something_. She had been one not to completely turn her back to him despite everything he and the government he was associated with had done. When so many of her troop admonished the fact of being kind to vermin like himself, she let their words fall to deaf ears. She made him feel welcome.

He left her lips behind, and she couldn't stop the resentment from such an act from being hidden from her expression. It didn't last however, as his found her neck once again. His lips teased the tender, anxious skin as teeth lightly grazed over the minimally abused flesh. Every portion of her body ached for more attention as she felt every coherent thought fall away over some proverbial cliff. The tension was growing, and she wanted to feel more of him, more of the delicate stubble of his chin, more of his delicious, if not nicotine infused kiss, even his gentle yet calloused caress. She felt the perspiration dot upon her forehead, she reached out to his blazer and shoved it from his shoulders, "You're too slow..." she breathed, eyes wild with hunger.

If that one phrase wasn't an invitation, he didn't know what was. Quickly he shrugged from his blazer, the garment falling forgotten. His shirt was next, but it was difficult to get his fingers working as he paid careful attention to Tifa's removal of her own clothing, pulling her tank above her head and tossing it behind her. The shirt draped over the bottle of earlier discarded tequila, and he couldn't help but wonder if she'd remember to rid of it before tomorrows' open. But Reno, in un-Reno fashion, was completely undone with the disappearance of the undergarment that supported her breasts. His hands tore at the remainder of his dress shirt, buttons popping from their tread as he hastily shrugged it off as he crushed Tifa against him in a swing, taking hold of her bruising lips and slammed her back against the wooden table closest by.

Lockhart groaned deep within her throat, much unlike herself. Then again, this entire situation she'd never thought to happen in a lifetime. She returned his kiss with equal urgency, biting as his lower lip, earning a growl of excitement. Lips locked, tongues exploring the warmth that was not their own, both struggled with the removal of the rest of each others' clothing. Desperation was beginning to grip hold of their motor skills, their shaking appendages making a simple task much harder than need be. Reno, the strangely clearer-headed of the two, was able to solve the puzzle his belt buckle presented that his partner was trying to accomplish, and slid his pants clear from his body. He was a bit gentler with her garments, but they were still seen as a distraction, and were cast away in a similar fashion.

Suddenly, the Turk stopped completely and pulled his lips away from the woman beneath him. He gazed seriously at the eyes that were slowly opening. What he saw was unmistakable lust, hunger, and passion. They were exactly what he wanted to see that would allow him to move on with his task. However, she was different, just like tonight. She was different from all of his other conquests. It was the difference that gave him pause, and almost had him walking away himself, "Tifa...are you completely sure about this?"

Perplexed by the question, she simply stared at him for a moment, allowing herself to wrap around the question. After his insistence, his insults, his suggestive manipulation, he now asks if she's sure? Instead of making him feel like a complete ass for it, she merely smiled. It proved to her once and for all there was a heart beneath all of the binge drinking, the chain smoking, and the dirty work of his occupation. He was still _human _, "No Reno, I'm not. But you were right--I do need this. But above that, I want this. Just one night, remember?" She touched his cheek with the back of her index finger, caressing his jaw line in a descent toward his throat and finally to his chest, "Now try to make me scream."

Her smile set him at ease, and her caress sent the hair the back of neck on end. A devilish grin touched his features as he dove his fingers through the tresses of her long, chocolate locks and held firm. Instinctively, her thighs pressed against either side of his hips as he thrust into her without a warning. A slight wince was heard despite her strong facade, the contours of her face set for the brace. He could tell she was going to put up a fight, and he was ready to meet it head on.

Tifa may have wanted this, but she wasn't about to make it easy for him. She attempted to relax to make the entry easy for both of them, but he was a bit bigger than she originally anticipated which turned out to be a huge mistake. A sound escaped her even as she tried to swallow it, but she had lived her entire life with pain; this would be no real challenge.

He moved in again, his emerald eyes intense with her brown irises, catching a flash of the hunger that still consumed her. It was a thrill to find that look in any woman's eye, but with it being hers made it seem more satisfying than it should have been. The thrill of finally having the upper hand on a former enemy? No, it was much more complicated than that. He'd think about it later. For now, he tugged on Tifa's tresses as his lips circled one of her attentive nipples, heightening her ecstasy as he thrust into her lower orifice in gentle succession.

The pace was maddening, as was trying to keep her moans of pleasure to herself. She matched his pace with her hips, but gave an extra push for emphasis, "Harder, Reno..." she breathed, her nails dragging up and down the length of his back causing the muscles beneath the skin to quiver by the touch.

Unsurprised by the request, he kept with the rhythm, ignoring her completely. He kept attention to her breast, casting gentle bites around the areola, knowing now she was having a fine time controlling herself. He wanted her to beg, to cry for a release. As much as he wanted one of his own, it was much more gratifying to hear a woman beg for mercy while the throes of passion overtake them.

The fight was fruitless. She opened the floodgates to a torrent of moans, followed by pleas Reno was just waiting to hear. She knew he would feel a victory, but denying herself exactly what she sought for was setting her up for a disappointment she didn't want to accept, "Please Reno..." she cried, her nails digging into his shoulder blades as she met with his latest thrust with one of her own.

He hadn't counted on her plea being so intoxicating. He pulled back, only to carry out her request, thrusting with an added grunt, "Ask me again..." he hissed through gritting teeth against her hair, placing an array of kisses to the shell, to her cheeks and finally to her awaiting lips. His own need was rising considerably and he was ready to obey her without any further demand. But hearing her cry out was far too exhilarating to let go.

A whimper came from behind pursed lips followed by the heated, desperate cry of a woman on the brink of sexual insanity. The heat was unbearable, and Reno was taking his sweet time to deliver. Clinging to him savagely, she tore from his lips withholding from a scream as he no longer held back. The table scraped the floorboards beneath as the Turk put all he had behind his thrusts, releasing her hair to gather her upright against his standing form. Her bottom grazed against the wood as he continued his raw motions of passion, feeling the nails ooze blood from his wounded skin but paid no mind to the injury. They were both upon their breaking point, the ecstasy of the moment coming to its climax. And as Tifa released her scream of satisfaction, her partner took the cue to finish his own satiable hunger, allowing his withheld and elongated groan escape from deep within his chest as he reached his end.

Mild exhaustion swept over him as he brought his thrusts to a slow halt, tracing his hands up and down the thighs of the martial artist. A bit of a fantasy, a bit of reality, and it actually surpassed his wildest dreams of the brunette beauty. He took her moment of composure to really take in the sight that was Tifa Lockhart. Their carnal desires took over any opportunity to truly appreciate the physical wonders of his partner. In Reno's case, he couldn't have been more satisfied by the picture before him--her bust was perfect, her stomach smooth and firm, and her thighs strong and toned. One night... that was all he asked for. But now he didn't know if he'd be satisfied with just one…

Tifa leaned back on her palms as she finally brought herself to breathe in a normal pattern rather than near hyperventilation. During that escapade, there was no invasion of Cloud within her thoughts, or anything else for that matter. She hated to admit, but Reno was right. She really _did _need that after all, "Thanks. That was..." Even after sitting naked before a former enemy, sweaty with disheveled hair... and his member still within her, she still managed a bright crimson blush, "...great."

"I told you sex was my forte." Reno couldn't keep the humor from his tone. Reluctantly, he stepped away from Tifa to retrieve his clothing. He knew this upcoming part would be awkward, as it always was. Leaving as quickly as possible was always the best solution to a difficult problem. No point in drawing the damn thing out any further than need be.

Lockhart watched him for a moment before mimicking his efforts, moving to gather her own garments. She slipped on her shorts upon finding them beneath an upturned chair that must have happened somewhere between the switch from bar counter to table, "One night is all it took." For the moment, it was easy to lie to herself that this was all she needed. The physical pleasures of the evening were wearing off, and were being replaced by something much harder to heal. She felt as if her heart was concaving in on itself, but she refused to let him see anymore of her weakness.

Something happened that Reno didn't expect, something that actually had _him _dumbfounded. He felt his heart skip a beat. The thought of this ending, it never happening again was something he didn't want to hear, that he didn't want to accept. Somewhere inside himself turned this into something more than just a casual encounter, somewhere along the line sex had opened the door to something more...

He scowled upon the revelation, shrugging on his pants and zipping them up, not bothering with the belt buckle. Sure, she gave him free drinks, welcomed him when everyone else turned him away in his drunken stupors, listened to his stories of the past and kept him company hours after closing time, but she didn't mean anything. Not a God damned thing--

"See you tomorrow?" He turned to see her standing behind the bar counter, her clothing back to her glorious figure as she stood so casual, as if nothing had even occurred. He couldn't help but be unnerved and completely frustrated, but he didn't show it. He said one night, and they'd stick to it.

"Maybe," he replied as he pulled his arms through his ruined shirt. When the hell did he bust off the buttons? "I don't know."

He turned away to grab his blazer, when it would be his peripheral vision to give him a clue--her casual demeanor was a facade. Through the corner of his eye he saw her crack, her face contort into heart wrenching agony as he moved to turn his back. She didn't want him to see it, her pain, and perhaps the damage that a sexual encounter couldn't cure. Despite his earlier desire, he suddenly got cold feet. He wasn't emotionally equipped to handle an issue as deep as this one. He could kill Cloud, but that wouldn't heal her open wounds.

He grabbed his blazer as he slowly turned to face Lockhart, to give her the time needed to collect herself before she looked at him. She still looked on the verge of tears, but at least they weren't cascading down her beautiful, heart-shaped face, "Do you want me to come by tomorrow?"

There was no preparing either of them for her next statement, but as soon as the words left her mouth, it would seem that the roles in each others' life would be changed forever, "I want you to stay the night."

**Author's note: Ok...I haven't written anything in forever, and I have a couple projects on hold. Sorry :( This is my FIRST ReTi, totally influenced by Savvy Savie years ago but never finished. So here it is :P Be gentle..**


	2. Crash Into Me

"Boys Don't Cry"  
Chapter Two: Crash Into Me

He felt like an ass. There was really no other explanation for the feeling that bloomed in his gut the morning after. There was no other reason for the expression upon his whiskered face when he gazed into the mirror of his cracked medicine cabinet. Even his subconscious told him he was an ass, plagued by a nightmare that allowed him to behold a lady in blue with dark hair and eyes with tears running down her rosy cheeks. Yup, he was an ass.

But could she really blame him? She asked him to compromise his routine. She asked him to break his vow of love 'em and leave 'em. She asked him with one request to be someone he wasn't. Yet still he couldn't justify his decision even to himself.

He was no better than that bastard Strife.

But their casual meeting must have meant something to him. As he lit his cigarette striding down the halls of the new Shinra Headquarters he gave the female secretaries the usual smirk of acknowledgement. Some smiled, some swooned, others sneered in remembrance he _'loved'_ 'em and left 'em. Yeah, they held a grudge. Lockhart wasn't the first woman to give his cheek a good sting to the bone. Yeah, she meant _something_, since she was the first ever he didn't divulge into detail of their night to the other Turks during their water cooler convo.

_"So what exactly was so pressing for you to skip poker night?" Elena inquired with a curious grin, "Since you weren't there I totally raked in the cash. Maybe you ought quit coming altogether. I'm sure you'll be able to find another floozy to occupy your time..." However, her face fell blank as he cut her a warning glare. "Sorry I said anything..." she mumbled meekly._

_Rude easily picked up on the strange behavior, attempting to cover for his comrade as he swallowed his bit of water and tossed the paper cup into the metallic bin by his feet, "Don't you have a mission report to make?"_

_The blonde glanced between the two, noting Reno's intense stare to his toes and Rude's...well, since his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, she wasn't completely certain where they were but assumed they were on Reno. "Uh...yeah...I'll get on it right away, sir..." Quickly gave a respectful nod to her superiors and darted off, nearly running head on into a clerical worker in her haste. A brief apology was the last that the duo heard from her._

_When she was out of sight, Rude didn't have to ask; his partner just started talking, "I'm an ass."_

_"You just realized this?"_

_He couldn't help but laugh, even if it was at his expense, "Nah. I already knew it to some degree."_

_Rude nodded, "Does it have to do with where you were last night? Where you are almost every night?" _

_Leave it to Rude to cut right to the chase. Reno even wondered if he should bother explaining at all, "Yeah, I..." He couldn't say it, "I was with...at Seventh Heaven."_

_An acknowledging grunt, "With Tifa, right?"_

_Damn him, "Right, we..." It was his best friend, but he couldn't say it, "I pissed her off again last night." He laughed nervously, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Ah well, I always piss her off. Dunno why I'm gettin' all weird about it now--Hey, let's go paint "Elena loves Tseng" on Tseng's desk with whiteout and blame it on Elena!" Before Rude could protest the ridiculous idea, the readhead was already darting down the hall._

_The bald Turk shook his head, trailing behind his friend. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the guy was certifiably bi-polar._

He didn't tell anyone. Reno Tarshil, who normally took pride in his conquests and naturally rubbed them in the face of his fellow associates, said nothing of the true nature of his encounter with Tifa Lockhart. Perhaps there was a sliver of guilt for taking advantage of the situation. _Hell no_, Reno reasoned with himself, _It takes two to tango my friend, and she was mighty happy with swaying all over your dance floor, puss-head. _

So what was the explanation for this feeling? What was the explanation of his silence? What was the explanation for the handful of red carnations in his possession and the ivory note between his index and middle finger as he stood in front of the closed sign of Tifa's residence? What was his explanation for being there in the first place?

To his defense, he had told her he might return the next day, but that was before she asked the question:

_"I want you to stay the night."_

_Everything in the room froze. The tiny particles caught in the above fans' breeze, the breath from Tifa's parted lips, even the blood within Reno's veins that was being pumped by his cold heart. He knew his answer before she even asked the question, and the question itself was insulting and infuriating. Then again, he said one night, and dawn wasn't too far away. He _could_ remain until the suns' brilliant rays peaked above the landscape of Midgar and graced their tired, fallen lids with warm urgency to rise and shine. He _could_ slip out quietly, carefully unfold her from his embrace without waking the precious, broken woman in his arms and leave their secret world behind..._

_"Please, Tifa. Don't get all needy on me. I did you a favor. I ain't the cuddling type. Use your stuffed Strife plushie for that." Or he could be an unrelenting jackass. _

_A sharp breath inhaled behind him, and he knew he made a huge mistake. "...Get the fuck out. Get out, you jackass, and don't come back or I swear I'll kill you."_

_That was harsh, and quite extreme, and figured it was an empty threat at most. But damn did he completely deserve it. Did her a favor? Yeah, right. If he was prepared to truly admit it to himself, it was clearly the opposite. Strife plushie? What the hell possessed him to come up with that one? A stuffed animal was bad enough, bringing up Strife in a situation where the whole purpose was trying to help her forget the disappearing Chocobo-boy was low even for his standards. But now he was annoyed. Annoyed with the entire situation. Hell, if she didn't request it, he wouldn't have come back anyway, "You ain't gotta tell me twice. There are plenty other bars in this damn town to frequent without coming to this run-down joint." But none that would give him free drinks after hours. "Hope the memory of us keeps you warm at night, Lockhart." He left with that, but not before he caught the bottle of red wine shatter in the corner of his eye against the frame of the door he was exiting. _

He was a jackass, and he talked too much; that much was established. But perhaps he answered his own question. He was bringing her flowers to make up for last night, so maybe...she'd grant him free drinks again? Yeah, that had to be the only reason for this visitation, for the flowers, for the note of apology... After all, she didn't mean anything to him.

Yet she did.

Suddenly an uncomplicated one-night stand became very, very complicated. His head was beginning to pound at the thought of it, causing pause to his actions. Aside from feeling like an ass for the previous night--jackass to be exact--he also felt foolish in his attempt to smooth things over. Would she accept his apology, an apology that he would never live down if he let it get out into the public ear? Would he get past the threshold without having a wine bottle lodged in his skull, or even a boot to his jaw? Would she carry out her threat and snuff his life with a brutal pounding of her powerful, yet feminine fists?

He knocked and waited.

His stance was clearly that of conscious anxiety, placing his weight from one heel to the other as he mentally hoped the door would at least crack so he could thrust the flowers in her face and run off before she had the chance to remove his testicles.

But after several minutes and another knock it became evident that she either didn't hear him, or was ignoring him. There was also the possibility of her waiting for him to open the door himself so she could shove her fist down his throat. The question was, should he take the plunge and just walk in, or was it wiser to give her another day to cool off?

As inclined as Reno was to procrastinate, he had gotten this far and refused to turn back now. It was hell feigning off the pressing questions of the florist hours earlier and the accusing looks of the common passerby. Half the town knew his game, and flowers weren't normally one of the aces up his sleeve he considered until today. The Turk could be charming, but romance and heartfelt repentance weren't in his deck of cards. When you live by the routine of love 'em and leave 'em, they were more like un-played jokers than Aces.

He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts when the door swung open and a slightly disheveled Tifa stood in the doorway. She looked as if she'd been crying; her eyes bloodshot and face mostly dry, but appeared slick to the touch. Her face didn't portray the expression he figured it would. Above all else, he expected anger at the sight of him, but what he saw now actually felt worse--he saw nothing. There was nothing behind her brown irises; no anger, no hate, no real emotion at all. She almost looked...hollow, completely cried out.

She glanced down at the bundle of flowers he clenched in his grasp as if she was tempted to choke the life from the stems in his possession. He was tense at the sight of her, and seemed as if he were bracing himself for some sort of impact.

"Are those for me?" the bartender asked quietly, her lips twitching as a tiny smile made its way to her face, but it never really reached her eyes.

The Turk blinked, and looked down at the carnations in his grasp. The card had fallen by his feet, tucked partially beneath his dress shoe. He felt inadequate enough with the flowers, what the hell was he thinking when he got the card too? "No, they're for Marlene. I always had a thing for six year olds."

Tifa had a look of shock, staring at him with parted lips as if she were to say something but choked on them with his comment.

Apparently she didn't catch the humor. He mentally scolded himself for his idiocy, _Stupid, stupid, stupid_... "Yeah, they're for you. I just...um...wanted to say..." Reno just did not apologize, and letting the words get any further than his chest left a taste of bile in the back of his throat.

Noticing his obvious discomfort, she gave a sympathetic smile and graciously relieved the carnations of his rigid grip, "They're very pretty, thank you." She stepped away and promptly shut the door in his face.

He just stood there, staring at the closed door before him wondering where he went wrong.

Sure, he didn't actually _say_ he was sorry, but he figured she got the idea by the flowers and the fact he risked his life to return to the doorstep of her workplace and home. She accepted the flowers, even brushed his skin with her fingertips as she pulled them into her bosom--all right, so a good part of that was indeed, his imagination. But the fact remained his flowers were inside, and he was outside.

Just as he was about to knock a third time to make the inquiry on _why_ his gift was permitted entrance and he was denied, the door flew open once more. The lady behind the threshold was no longer carrying the bouquet and she appeared a tad more at ease. He assumed it was because of the present, but he didn't want to make any more assumptions lest next time his flowers get shoved up his nose, "Did you want to come inside?" She questioned innocently, leaning casually against the open door.

Her shoulder leaned, and her arm seemed to crush one breast into the other creating ample cleavage Reno couldn't ignore even if there were a gun to his temple, loaded and cocked. Her current attire didn't make it easy either--low-cut white tank top and black mini skirt minus the suspenders. He didn't notice anything else as his eyes were glued to her top half until it finally clicked in his brain--the thing that was currently turning to mush--she'd asked him a question, "Huh? Oh...yeah. As long as you don't plan on dissecting me or something."

It seemed no matter her mood; Tifa Lockhart always had a smile ready, even for lowlifes like himself. Moving from the doorway, she beckoned to him with the wave of her hand as she took her place behind the counter in an effortless strut. She was _supposed_ to be blindingly pissed off at him, but it was hard to tell by the way her smile brightened the room around them, or the sway of her hips told of things beyond that of innocent tidings. Her mood seemed to have dramatically improved upon his--or rather, the flowers--arrival, and he'd take advantage of the situation as long as possible. Leaning on her palms at the counter, she regarded her 'customer' calmly as he took his usual stool after locking the door behind him, "Something strong tonight, Reno? You look like you need it."

Was it that obvious? Was his internal frustration playing out on his face? Were his eyes really the window to his soul? He was suddenly wanting to copycat Rude and wear his own sunglasses 24/7, "Whiskey. Double." Conversation was more difficult this time. Every thought brought him to the night before and made him bubble with the insecurity of saying something stupid. He'd said enough offense shit to last the next two weeks. In fact, he was really surprised she hadn't even mentioned it. Good. Maybe she forgot.

"Oh, you forgot these last night," she tossed a pair of sunglasses upon the counter as she returned to fishing for the needed whiskey bottle.

All right, so she didn't forget. But she _was_ ignoring it, and that was good enough for him. Scooping the sunglasses into his palm, he slipped them into the inner pocket of his blazer as the bartender placed his double shot in front of him. He gazed at her briefly while downing the double in one go, "No wine tonight?" he said after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

She shook her head, refilling his shot glass as she answered in a more elaborate fashion, "You broke my only bottle."

The Turk frowned at her, "I broke it? You're the one that chucked it across the room at my head."

"Exactly."

He studied her a moment, ignoring the fresh amber liquid. He took a real good look in her eyes to find the humor in them. It was at that moment when the artificial light caught her sparkling pupils did he understand what was going on--she was forgiving him. Just like that, she was putting the confrontation behind her and moving forward. If only she could put behind that dumbass...

In the corner of his eye he caught sight of the carnations collected in a crystal-like vase at the end of the bar partially filled with water. All would see his memento of apology. He wondered deftly if when asked where she acquired the flowers, she'd tell the truth. Suddenly he didn't care if anyone knew or not; she forgave him, and that was good enough for him.

Upon further inspection of the room, he also caught a jukebox lit with neon flashes of color--blues, purples and greens--to grab attention. It was strange how he hadn't noticed the device before.

As if she read his thoughts, she piped him out of them, "I got it in a few days ago. I had a few requests from the regulars that it would be an improvement."

Reno scoffed, downing his single shot with ease. She knew him well. Double shot to begin, then alternate, "It's an eye sore. Probably an ear sore depending on what some asshole decides to play."

She laughed knowingly, pouring him another double while taking notice to the quickly depleting bottle. She never asked him to pay, and she wouldn't start. After all, she usually didn't need to; he'd leave a handful of gil on his own. Sometimes they'd be in the high double digits, some nights when he was almost too drunk to stand straight, it would be close to ten gil. She kept it their little secret, "It's already begun. If I have to hear 'Jukebox hero' one more time, I'm going to sell it. They can deal with the silence."

"Fitting song," he chuckled, tapping his finger against the empty shot having downed the double as she spoke. He was quickly beginning to feel the hasty effect of the liquor, which ultimately put him in a better mood. He was a loud drunk, but he was also the 'happy-go-lucky' type as well. Occasionally, it was 'happy-go-lucky-into-my-pants' depending on the company. He thought about it a moment, with her hand down his pants, and dismissed the idea. It wasn't for lack of wanting, because he was surely wanting, but he wasn't prepared to make the same mistake twice in two days. One bunch of flowers he could handle, but two might give him a coronary, "You like anything on it?"

Lockhart paused a moment to consider the question, "Hmm...there are a few that caught my eye, but I haven't played them yet. Just haven't really thought about it..." she trailed off, suddenly lost, caught in a proverbial whirlwind of something totally beyond their current reality.

He could tell just by looking at her where her thoughts just went. That idiot Strife. It would be so easy to find him, drop him off a cliff and just say, _'Oh so sorry Tifa, he moved into a whore house in Costa Del Sol, contracted syphillis and died by a series of blows to the head. See, he went nuts and ran into a cement wall repeatedly screaming "waffles, toast, jam, tickle my toes and make me a man!". He said to tell you he loved you, but move on without him because he was a damn pansy-ass slut in life and you deserve better', _but knowing Tifa, she'd see through it and demand photographs, medical documentation, x-rays, and allow her to be present for the autopsy. Damn complicated women.

"Let's play something then," he suggested, standing to reach into his blazer pocket for his gil. Flipping one of the pieces between his fingers, he dragged himself to the contraption and suddenly wished he hadn't. The bright lighting of the machine caused a sharp throbbing to come alive in his head between his eye and temple. Perhaps this was his body's way of telling him this was a bad idea, to go back, sit down and get sloppy ass drunk--to quit trying to please the lady by being a nice guy and just get plastered.

"What do you want to hear?" So much for listening to reason...

He slipped in a dollar bill as she answered him, "Hmm...look under Oasis. 'Wonderwall' is a good one."

He searched as she rattled off the next one, "Oh, and 'Only you' under Sacha. And also try 'Unbreak my he--'."

"Dammit woman, can't you pick one upbeat song or must everything be so damn melancholy?" The Turk didn't mean to release his irritation at her choices. His intention was to be a very good boy, but instead he went and smarted off at the mouth...again. Sighing, he punched in the appropriate numbers for the first two songs, but picked one of his own for the last.

Reluctantly, he turned to look at her to see her wiping the counter in angry strokes, a tight frown on her features as she scrubbed needlessly into the wood.

Once again, he was an ass. The music began to play, and he found the first tune familiar.

_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you_

_By now you should have somehow realized what you've gotta do_

_I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now_

"Does this have any significance for you?" Reno asked boldly, reclaiming his stool and hunching forward, pressing his elbows against the counter.

Tifa regarded him sharply, her eyes narrowed. But when she noticed the sincere curiosity in his expression, her own softened just a bit, "Does what have significance?"

He snorted a little at her oblivious disregard to the musical interlude. She wasn't even listening apparently, "The song. You picked it. Does it mean anything to you?" He didn't even understand why he wanted to know. Perhaps it was him just attempting small talk, trying to cool the anger that blossomed within her by his snappy outburst. Perhaps, he was really curious about her inner workings...

"Oh. Well, yeah, it kinda does..." Obviously she was retreating into herself, and that was never a good sign. Yes, he knew she'd been crying earlier, but he wasn't sure over what. Cloud Strife was the obvious answer, but maybe that was too obvious. But she continued strangely, her eyes never connecting with his, "It's my own personal dedication to someone." He knew that someone instantly, "He'll never know it, but...yeah, there ya go." She stepped away from him to the sink, rinsing and wringing out the thrashed towel that should have been discarded days ago. In fact, it didn't look like a towel at all, but a piece of a white under shirt.

There were several questions on the tip of his tongue, and as the alcohol settled deep into his system, they all wanted to come and surface at the same instant. He pushed all back down his throat except one, "Why are you forgiving me?" The one question he really didn't want to know the answer to. He plan was to ignore the whole thing as long as she did. But of course, Reno Tarshil talks too much.

The martial artist stopped all movements, appearing to deliberate on the inquiry, as if uncertain how to answer. To give details, or brush it aside? Reno had no clue what she was thinking now. She purposely didn't look at him as she relinquished her hold on the cloth and stood very still. Her chest expanded with a deep breath as she slowly turned to bravely face him, "Because if I don't forgive you, I can't forgive myself." When he looked utterly lost, she continued, "I did something last night under normal circumstances, I would have never thought twice. I compromised my moral standings for a night of attention from a man...well you. And in turn, I asked you to compromise your own standings. I know you, Reno. I know you don't stay longer than you have to with the women you sleep with. I was wrong to ask that of you." She stopped, as if to further collect her thoughts, "I'm not saying you were right to say what you did, but I guess...I was wrong too. For that, I'm sorry."

Reno couldn't move. He couldn't think, and for several moments he forgot breathing was a necessity. _She_ apologized to _him_? Was he even awake? What sort of sick nightmare was this?

If he didn't feel like an ass before, he definitely did now. There was nothing he could think to say to make this moment any less tense, to release the tightened muscles in his body, to shrink his eyes back into his sockets from the pure shock he currently suffered from. He just noticed the shot glass was refilled, and he downed it without a second thought. It seemed to be an automatic reaction, one Tifa found amusing. He could imagine what he looked like--deer caught in a headlight and taking its last swing before the van plows through it.

Her chuckle was silent, but apparent as he witnessed her chest shake with the action. Well, that's another reason for the cat to catch his tongue.

The music in the background finally caught his attention again, the one he punched in.

_Hike up your skirt a little more_

_And show your world to me_

_Crash into me_

He didn't feel like an ass anymore--he felt tainted. He was right the first time; Cloud didn't deserve her because she was too good for him. But as he watched her place her silken brown hair behind her ears, her strong, beautiful legs scissor toward him, her eyes lock to his gaze in a curious stare and adorable tilt of her head, she was too good to even acknowledge his presence.

Before she had the opportunity to refill his shot glass, he stood abruptly from his stool, so swiftly he stumbled backward. The liquid amber made balance hard to retain, but he managed, "Aw damn, look at the time. I gotta go... you know, work in the morning."

Tifa nodded slowly, taking the glass from the counter, "I understand. See you tomorrow?"

The thought crossed his mind of never seeing her again, leaving the bar, and her, and her scent, and her damned perfect body, and her blastedly beautiful smile, and her god damned fucking kind eyes behind.

"Yeah, I'll be here," _No self control you dickhead... _"And I don't want to hear that slow stuff again. Pick some rock or something next time I come in here, got it?"

She smiled gently, shaking her head as she put the whiskey bottle in it's place, replying without looking at him, "I'll try, but I didn't pick this one."

No, he did. And it held meaning for him, too. He didn't say another word as he unlocked the door and slipped into the night, whispering a phrase she'd never hear under his breath...

_I'm sorry too, Tifa._

**Author's note: I wrote this way quicker than I planned to, but it just kind of hit me. I appreciate any critisism, so hit me with some. Special thanks to the reviewers, and to Savvy Savie for proofread my stuff. Reviews wanted. Happy reading.**


	3. Second Time Lover

**A/N: Thanks to all that have taken the time to tell me in not so exact words, that this story is worth writing. I see a lot of hits, but not many reviews. But until I'm told otherwise I'm going to assume that you're liking what you read. As much as I would like to read more encouraging words, I'm not about to twist your arm (I can't reach that far :( ). So to those that enjoy this piece so far, I'm glad to be of service to your reading pleasure. Those who aren't...well...fuck off. I don't care that much to appease you ;)**

"Boys Don't Cry"  
Chapter Three: Second Time Lover

He did return the next day, and the day after that. Tifa was beginning to sight a noticeable, consistent pattern that was prior to their escapade, his visitations bordered on sporadic. Over the course of the following week however, his company was expected every night after close. She'd pour him a double shot of whiskey, sometimes a walk-me-down if he didn't seem so high strung. He didn't talk about it, but something was going down in his life that appeared to have his head in the clouds.

Despite his disposition, he set aside most aggravations to engage in conversation with Lockhart, whether it be about business, her health, or the weather, his curiosity seemed at its peak when the discussion was centered around her. This caused her to become a bit more alert, as their previous conversations usually entailed Reno babbling drunkenly about some jackass at work who couldn't take a practical joke--like whiteout to an oak finished desk.

Another noticeable difference was the Turk didn't drink until he was staggering upon his feet and dragging himself down the street, just barely aware of his navigational skills. These days he was content enough to simply space his shots and be coherent enough to walk in a semi-straight line.

One thing that was almost as startling was he actually came to the bar during business hours one late evening. He was angered by the fact someone had his usual stool, and had a hard time understanding that since his name wasn't literally written on it, the man occupying it wasn't going to leave it. Only Tifa's pleading glance kept the grumbling Turk from taking action against the drunkard. The Turks didn't invoke fear like they once had with their new will to make the wrongs committed right, so his casual threats didn't carry weight like they used to. So he took a back, empty table and sulked.

A hired female hand took to his table, an infectious, flirtatious smile upon her porcelain visage as she inquired to his liquored desire. Tifa did take note of his obvious disinterest in the waitress. Instead, she caught his eyes upon her as he said something to the worker. Based on how her shoulders squared and chest heaved, she seemed a bit miffed by his reply as she scurried from the red-haired man to the next table. She later found out through interrogation of the waitress, Reno had told her to 'get a boob job if you want big tips or you'll be counting singles for the remainder of your career because those negative A's will get you nowhere'. Tifa did laugh, but only when she wasn't looking.

Tifa noticed not only a change in Reno, but in herself as well. In fact, she was pleased by his daytime visitation even though she was clearly too busy to tend to him on a Friday night. Her mood had drastically improved since Cloud's departure, and she found herself giving it only brief thought during downtime hours and breaks. It wasn't only her mood that had changed, but her...body language as well. She found herself being a tad more seductive in her movements when the Turk was around--giving her hips an extra sway as she walked, bending over quite leisurely to any mans' content, even the gleam in her eye was different. The new behavior nearly caused her tips to double that night and the catcalls to increase.

Unfortunately, this also had an adverse effect on Reno. As much as he appeared to adore her attention, he wasn't so adoring when it was used upon other gentlemen. And when he saw it in action, a jealous spark began to flicker and spread behind his emerald eyes. Then again, it could have simply been aggravation as it was the same man who had denied him his regular seat.

When he sent a man sprawling to the floor with a cracked jaw after copping a feel upon Tifa's rear, he gave the bartender a mildly apologetic look as she went to glare at him for the action, but she was internally grateful for his show of chivalry in her honor.

She parted her lips to thank him, but he cut her off before the words dropped from her mouth. Instead, he simply shook his head, mumbling something about the man smoothing out the Turks' bum indentation with his fat ass. She let it go as she watched him retreat from the establishment on his own.

For now.

When closing time came, she waited for his arrival, counting on his cocky presence, his slouched strut and knowing grin. She awaited the fragrance of gunfire from the firing cage he'd mentioned to her on a few occasions, as well as the potent scent of Cactuar cigarettes and very faint hint of _Beast_, a men's brand of cologne he was fond of, and found herself drawn to as well. Soon she'd hear the light, smooth footfalls of black leather dress shoes and the casual _'Miss me?' _as he took to his usual spot.

But the time never came, and she found herself waiting almost until dawn for the Turk to show his face into her bar for the second time that night. She suddenly wondered if it had something to do with the happenings of the early evening. Strangely, she hadn't been angry with him at all over the incident. The jackass was indeed a paying customer, but he had certainly deserved a smack or too. Perhaps not a broken jaw and two missing molars, but a good lasting sting. Despite a hospital visit and a jaw sling, he'd be fine.

When it just became far too heavy for her eyelids to continue to remain ajar, she ushered herself to her empty bedroom where she let sleep overtake her. The last thought that graced her mind was not that of Cloud and his current whereabouts, but why Reno didn't come to see her after hours...

O o O

It wasn't until the following night just after close did the gallant redhead drag himself across the threshold. Tifa Lockhart was nearly through with placing the wooden chairs upside down upon the tables. She glanced at Reno, a smile instantly taking its place upon her lips. There was a tender look to her eye as she watched him wordlessly aid her in the current task that consumed attention until his arrival.

"Miss me?" Tarshil asked slyly as he placed the final chair cushion upon the table to his side. There was a knot within his gut that clenched just after the query was voiced. Perhaps it was his reluctance to hear the answer, knowing his behavior the night before may have caused some tension between them. Yeah, he punched the jerk-off out and busted his chops, but he did it because... He had a hard time even admitting the reason behind the violence himself. Jealousy. A word he didn't understand the meaning of until the moment it ignited and set him ablaze.

Lockhart parted from his presence to take her stance behind the counter. He noticed her accented sashay and held his gaze to the feminine hips that belonged to the martial artist. He remembered, he once upon a time ago held those hips in his grasp as he took pleasure in--

"I noticed you didn't come by late last night," Tifa said instead of answering the inquiry directly while producing a shot glass and nearly full whiskey bottle as Reno took his seat, his eyes reluctantly retreating from her lower regions once they were completely out of sight, "Scared to come by after the incident?"

Reno instantly scoffed, barely giving the filled shot glass a glance as he locked his gaze with the bartender, a cocky grin taking hold of his expression, "Babe, this Turk never gets scared. I've got more on my agenda than seeing you, you know." He nearly cringed as the words left his throat. He was a jackass, even when he wasn't trying to be.

Tifa didn't seem to notice as she placed her elbows upon the bar top, her palms cupping her chins as her forearms came to the sides of her breasts. The feat accentuated the visible cleavage her shirt already permitted. A man couldn't help but stare, which is exactly what the green-eyed man did. Fortunately, she didn't seem to be bothered by the act. In fact, she even seemed to have counted on the attention as she held back a wavering grin, but nonchalantly continued the conversation, "Of course. Which reminds me; why did you come by so early last night? You knew I would be too busy to cater to you on a Friday night."

A silence filled the air. Reno stared at the shot, Tifa stared at him, and the only sound that permeated the air was the gentle pattern of their breath. For a moment, the Turk was speechless by the query, and the comment that followed. What had he expected that night? Hardy conversation and lustful innuendos? Free drinks and a free ride on the bar top? He wished it were that simple. Unfortunately for him, it was what was so simple that made everything that much more complicated.

So Reno did the next best thing--avoid the question completely, "Damn that moron for fucking up my stool. I feel like he tainted it. I broke that guy's jaw didn't I?" He asked, the cocky grin returning as he downed the whiskey.

Tifa frowned, apparently noticing his casual way of avoiding a very simple inquiry, but leaving it to rest, "Also lost two molars. I hope you're proud of yourself," she replied with mild amusement to her tone. "You were the talk of the bar once you left. I think civilization has a new reason to fear Turks."

_If she knew the real reason..._ Reno let the thought trail off before it fully formed, almost ashamed of himself for it. The jackass took his seat, and that's all there was to it! No hidden meaning or separate reason. He was a drunk that was in his way, and it finally got on his last nerve, "They should have never quit fearin' us. I wish that idiot remembered that before I had to bruise my knuckles on his pathetic slug-face."

Finally, he noticed the second helping of liquor, and disregarded the mind-altering liquid for a cancer stick. Lighting the cigarette between his lips, he breathed in the toxins and blew out the whitish smoke from his nostrils. A quick glance to his acquaintance allowed him to take note of her apparent distaste to his vice. After a careful thought, he extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray. This earned a very perplexed look from Tifa, "So...you mentioned the kids leaving in a week or two?"

The perplexed expression never left her features as she watched Reno carefully, her fingers pushing a few fallen strands of her hair behind her ear, "Next Sunday they leave for Kalm with Barret. He wants to take them off my hands for a few weeks since they will be out of school for summer vacation so I can have some time to myself," she laughed slightly. "He acts as if I can't handle them, but they're great children. They're very precious to me. They help..." she paused a moment, choosing her words carefully, "...keep me company."

Almost every word she said went through one ear and tumbled out of the other. His attentions were focused on her actions, the hair behind her ear, her fingers grazing against the outer shell as she placed the strands securely behind the ear. This act was normally a thoughtless one after careful inspection on his part each night he came by, but lately it had become a more consciously sensual action. He wanted to believe it was wishful thinking, as it would be easier to accept, but the alternative was just too glorious to ignore, considering the difference was noticeable since their intimate time together.

It was her final sentence that snapped him from his present fantasy--and his heart exploded.

The whiskey hit the back of his throat, and the burn distracted him from the other feeling in his chest, attempting to override the not so foreign sensation. It had been ages since he'd experienced the emotion, and remembered why he abandoned ever acknowledging it again. Clearing his mind with the rub of a temple with his index finger, he clenched his fist and bit his tongue in an attempt to keep himself from saying what was on his mind, "I guess I'll just have to come by more often."

He failed.

To his surprise, a seductive grin came over Tifa's visage as she winked suggestively to him, running a finger along the low cut stitching of her blue tee, "I think I could use the extra attention..." A sparkle appeared in her brown irises as she left Reno to retrieve something further down the bar.

Reno gripped his shot glass with such ferocity that he feared it'd shatter in his grasp. He was standing at full attention, and thankfully he was the only one painfully aware of this. Normally, dealing with this sort of situation was no problem for the Turk. This obstacle would have been easily overcome. There was a problem--this was Tifa, and he distinctly remembered a verbal agreement that he never broke with any woman. It had always been hit-and-run in his life. No second chances, no second helpings...

Until tonight.

This hadn't been the first night she'd acted in such a manner. However, the difference between that night and prior ones was that Reno had about mustered all he could take from the collective verbal and non-verbal come-ons.

Perhaps she wanted it too; because according to her body language, it was clear she wanted _something_, and maybe it was her current activity that put everything into perspective. She didn't bend down to lift the dustpan into her possession like she normally would, but bent _over_. He got a clear view of her firm backside, long legs and flash of a pair of purple lace panties beneath her leather skirt. _Lace_ screamed 'I'm prepared' as opposed to granny panties that screamed 'I refuse to fuck anyone'. Her movements were no way swift and subconscious, but slow and purposeful. If that wasn't evident enough, she flashed him a slight smile as she straightened. Snatching the broom from the wall, she went to work upon the floor while Reno took obvious interest in every one of her motions.

If he hadn't known it before, he did now--she was taunting him. It wasn't normal Tifa-esque behavior, but so much had changed since their first night together. Even though things ended on a rough note and apologies were distributed (one-sided apologies), their relationship had treaded uphill. They spoke more, knew more about each other, and relished in each other's company even though neither participant cared to admit to it. So where did things go from here? What was a guy to do?

Without any further hesitation, he turned in his stool as he carefully watched Tifa brush the broom underneath the various tables, cut corners and edges to collect to particles into a single pile, "Barret was telling me Shin-Ra is taking an active interest in the oil fields he and his crew have been scouring for," He planted his feet upon the wooden floor without a sound as she kept her attention to the one-way conversation and the growing pile of dirt and dust, "He mentioned they are having some problems with the Icicle Village Mayor Eddil Malone..." He stepped forward, a primal lust gleaming in his green eyes, "...in persuading him to let him..." Another few steps as she turned her back to him, "...and his crew dig..." she dipped low to sweep the pile of dirt in the dustpan, "...for possibilities--"

As she stood, she felt his warmth, smelled his scent, and felt him instantly pressed against her as her backside leveled with him. She gasped at his sudden presence, the objects in her hands still as her body went rigid with the recognition. Any words upon her tongue slipped back into her throat as a pair of hands gripped her hips and held them firmly in place

The hunger in his eyes went unseen, but the hunger in his body was _very_ noticeable to the martial artist. He entire form had stilled under his touch, her breath hitched and held. "Tifa..." he started, his lips close to her ear as he breathed in the scent of her hair. Vanilla, mixed with the scents of the bar. He was overwhelmed instantly, "Tell me something. And you might as well be honest since I already know the answer."

"Reno... What are you...why...?" Lockhart stammered, attempting to control her voice but failing quite miserably at the task.

"You've changed something about yourself, haven't you? The things that you do..." He said coolly, pressing his cheek against her shoulder as he pulled her tighter to the front of him. He grinned to himself as he felt her body begin to melt into him. Whether she was aware of her own reaction didn't make a difference--he had her just where he wanted her.

A small sigh escaped her as the broom and dustpan dropped from her listless fingertips with a loud clatter, "What do you mean...?"

Her succulent form went from still to animate as a wave of trembles traveled across her skin, through her blood and to the very core of her sex while Reno administered a few oral distractions. His lips caressed the area just below her earlobe, a dark and often unattended cove that she very clearly enjoyed to the fullest measure of delight. "You know what I mean, Tifa. I may be a complete jackass, but I'm no idiot." A nip to her earlobe sent her shivering, "Don't make me say it."

For a long moment she didn't say anything, and Reno halted his efforts. She enjoyed his attentions, she enjoyed their single night, and she enjoyed taunting him. He was about to snatch that pleasure from her and bring her to a completely new kind of bliss. However, the redhead was conflicted by his desire. It ran deeper than he cared to accept, but masking it with physical, sinful euphoria allowed him to ignore it that much longer.

She surprised him when a quiet moan of disappointment caught his ear. Despite her discomfort, he did nothing to continue his mission in foreplay. He wanted an answer.

"Yes. I..." She moaned once more as his hands left their perch upon her hips and traveled down her thighs upon her reply. It was when he lifted the material of her skirt close to her waist did she gasp in surprise.

"You what? Toyed with me?" His thumbs hooked through the sides of her panties, and she did nothing to stop it. "Tried to excite me," he slipped the garment an inch from her frozen hips, and "meant to deny me?" With a final shove, they fell around to her ankles.

She said nothing as he turned her around to find wide eyes. They did not contain fear, hesitation, or even shock--they were filled to the brim with ravenous yearning. Her nipples were visible beneath the shirt by the desire and anticipation already flooding her body. Her lips were tense, trying to form a word, but unable to make the muscles cooperate. Settling with the shake of her head in negation, Reno grinned at her knowingly. As pleased as he was that she felt the pain his nether regions had endured during her so-called innocent acts of seduction, he was itching to get a sweeter pleasure from something else, "You wanted this again, didn't you? Once wasn't enough from good ol' Reno, huh?" A slight wrinkle formed between her dark brows, but the look in her eyes didn't give him reason to doubt. He smiled at this, "I told you so."

Little did she know, he couldn't get enough of her either.

He gave her not a chance to move or speak as he bent low to face her torso, lifting the material of her tee shirt and placing tender kisses to the tight flesh. His lips carefully tugged at the skin, which earned a pleased, sigh from the lady before him. He took note there was nothing behind her to grasp or cling to, which caused a devious little grin to take form.

Moving his attentions to her naval, he played with its shallowness, the tip of his tongue teasing the inner button. He'd spent night upon night fantasizing of another night like this, with her; able to taste her, to please her, writhe with her in his arms. It'd been too long since he'd felt the urge to have a second round with any woman. He was either much too drunk to have remembered their face, or too bored with their performance to give another thought to what they had to offer. There was also the threat of emotion, of lust turning into something more powerful that he wanted no part of. There was a strict rule of no second-gos--the exact rule he was happily breaking now.

The extension of his manhood was growing tighter within the confines of his clothing with every moan, every sigh and tug to his red locks grasped between her tightened phalanges. She wordlessly pleaded to him for his continuation further south, and he was more than happy to oblige. He pushed her skirt further above her hips to give him full access to her womanly folds.

"Trust me," he suddenly whispered softly. In a swift motion that nearly took Tifa clear from both her feet, one arm locked around her left leg to steady her as the other guided her right upon his shoulder. She easily complied with the physical command, and all words ceased to exist as his tongue licked through her moist lips, taking complete pleasure in the shudder that enveloped her body from his efforts. He worked the pink, tender skin with his mouth and sent his tongue between her legs.

He felt her weight drastically shift as her knees began to buckle beneath her, "Reno...Oh God..." echoed through the air above as he relished in the sweet taste of Tifa. His hands squeezed her backside as his efforts became more urgent and concentrated. And when she was on the brink of release with her back arching, the muscles clinching--he stopped and pulled his face from her shuddering orifice.

"Reno..." Tifa groaned almost pathetically, her body quivering with the near release of her climax, desperate for the rush of ecstasy he was so close to granting her. Instead, he gently kissed the inside of her thighs and he lowered the leg from his shoulder to the floor. Once his touch left her completely, she stumbled off balance, catching grip of the bar counter before her knees gave out, "You bastard..." she muttered quietly with a tinge of disappointment.

A devilish expression took to his features as he straightened from his crouch. His erection was painful, but he wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of knowing this. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets with a nonchalant grace in stance, watching her collect herself as she glared at the Turk, "I've been called a lot worse really. I think I've been called worse by you even."

"You enjoy this? You enjoy...humiliating me? Making me feel needy and pathetic?" Her throat tightened with the question, forcing the emotions away from her tone and face.

Her words slashed him through the heart, and the thrill of torture was gone. She had taken it to a personal note he hadn't expected, even though in retrospect he probably should have. He pulled his hands from his pockets and took the steps necessary to stand within her personal space, but far enough to keep from touching her without the intention to, "I was enjoying it. I was enjoying making you moan, cry out my name, and quiver from your head to your toes. But..." He reached to caress the side of her cheek with the back of his fingers in an affectionate gesture that left Tifa breathless and staring, "...not to humiliate you or make you feel pathetic or needy."

They both stilled, contemplating the current position they were in. Tifa was in the most compromising one--panty-less and orgasm deprived. Reno was still in possession of all of his clothing, however one could say he was also deprived of release.

It was Tifa who spoke first, "Upstairs, my room."

Reno had held himself in check longer than he thought he'd be able to, and releasing the anxious beast was his reward. He gathered Tifa in his arms with vicious intent, crushing her body to his own as he devoured her lips with his eager mouth. His tongue slipped between her lips, taking part in a silent dance with hers as he felt her fingers claw into his back.

Urging her legs to comply, he lifted her backside as her legs locked around his waist, the wetness between her legs colliding with his clothed erection. He groaned hotly into her mouth as he headed for the steps. He barely had an inkling of where he was going, but vaguely remembered the location of her and Cloud's room from the time of the silver-haired siblings. He also remembered she slept on a single bed.

Shit.

Stumbling up the steps, Tifa's hands pushed his open blazer from his shoulders while he shook the garment free from his arms, as she attacked his exposed throat with her blushing lips to which Reno withheld from vocalizing his pleasing reaction to the sensation. As he was aware of her bedroom, he was also very aware they were not alone in the household. He almost laughed aloud at the thought of the children awaking to see a Turk boning their caretaker. However, it was a brief thought as her legs tightened around his waist, her hips grinding against his dress pants. All thoughts were non-existent as he picked up the pace and nearly fell across the bedroom threshold.

Cloud's bed, Tifa's bed, it didn't matter--he was gonna fuck her somewhere. He set her upon the closest one in his path, reclaiming her lips as he frantically worked to pull away his dress shirt. He was burning up and the clothes couldn't fall away fast enough.

"Reno..." Tifa forced through kisses, turning her head off to the side, "Reno, the door...Oh Reno..." she moaned adoringly as he licked and kissed the path of her collarbone.

"The door...Oh shit the door," the Turk reluctantly parted from the martial artist as he threw off his dress shirt and shut the wide open door. When he turned back, she was sitting upright with a haunted look upon her face, "What the hell is wrong with you?" He kicked himself for the harshness that leaked with the question.

She wasn't looking at him--she was looking at the other bed. The bed that hadn't been slept in so long it was collecting dust within the fibers of the cotton sheets, "I can't do this in here..."

The Turk frowned in sexual frustration, but something else he couldn't quite pinpoint, "Dammit Tifa, he's not even here--he hasn't been here for almost a month. Let him go."

She turned to glare at him, but there was a small part of her that knew she had to let go completely, but clearly it wasn't so easy, "He sleeps in here, Reno. It's like...it's just wrong."

So close to recovery, yet so far from the finish line. He couldn't understand how she could handle the torture she put herself through. They were two completely different people--She, who dedicated her life to others, and he who worked for others for a paycheck, and from time to time extinguished life for the same reason. He attempted to place himself in her shoes, and still came to same annoying conclusion...

"Strife is an asshole," Reno said quite bluntly as he moved to stand in front of Tifa, looking down on her with such intensity that she was visibly taken aback by the change. "We both know this is a fuckin' fact, don't we? So you know what you do? Say fuck it, and use this to cleanse yourself of his callous grime. Heal yourself with desecration."

Tifa appeared to be thinking through his words, her brows furrowed with the notion he was stating. It was truly a test within herself. If she could succeed with the deed, she knew she was truly on the road to closing the wounds that Cloud and her life with the fleeting man created.

With a broad smile to her lips, she scooted forward to the awaiting Turk standing before her. Her silent agreement came in the form of the release of his erection from the retraining pants that kept his discomfort evident. The pants and belt pooled at his ankles, "And what better way to desecrate his memory than to have sex with a Turk in his room."

Reno laughed at the irony, allowing the thought to wrap around his mind as he slipped the shoes from his feet, "Maybe to have sex with Rufus, but I hear he's a stiff." With that, he took her wrists and pinned her against the mattress as he crawled on top of her.

She didn't fight or show any reluctance in his efforts while he freed her from the confinements of her clothing and tossing them in a forgotten pile. Her skin was smooth save for the very noticeable scar left behind by a fallen adversary. He knew about it before he saw it, and simply saw it as added character to her already beautiful formation. He trailed a wave of kisses across the scarring, producing a hearty moan of urgency from the brunette beneath him.

A writhe, a squirm, and finally a complete roll until Tifa was above him staring down. The surprise was apparent in his eyes from the change in position, clearly not expecting the aggression. However, it wasn't totally unwarranted, "I hope you don't mind, but I was aiming for some control this round."

Even if there was any protest on his tongue, he would have swallowed it once he caught sight of the beautiful smile that reached her eyes and caused them to sparkle even through the moonlit darkness, "Do your wors--"

Before he could finish his sentence, a fluffy, ivory pillow was shoved into his face and held firmly but loose enough to keep the Turk from suffocating. Asking why it was there was pointless as he knew she wouldn't hear him.

She answered his question without the inquiry, "Scream into this if you feel the need."

Reno chuckled at the assumption that he would need it. He didn't need to control himself with a piece of bedroom decor...

It was a cross between a moan and a scream that left him breathless as his nipples were grasped, pinched and tugged. Perhaps she meant to hurt him, but the pain simply excited him further, the blood rushing in a chaotic wave to his member causing him to groan with the sudden pressure. Whether he needed the pillow or not, he really didn't care. He wanted to see her face, wanted to watch her lips form his name as she reached her climax. He knew the scream muffler was for the children's benefit, and he'd respect their slumber but refused to hinder his experience so they wouldn't hear auntie Tifa fucking his brains out.

Which is exactly what she was preparing to do. He threw the pillow away in time to watch her lift and lower herself carefully onto his member. He placed a hand to her hip to aid in steadying her descent. Upon the contact, she locked her gaze with his euphoric eyes and never let go. His other hand reached to her opposite hip as she touched the hilt of his shaft. A quiet sigh fell from her parted lips, and repeated the motion, this time with his consistent assistance.

They soon found a rhythm together, and it was a vigorous tango that both occupants fought to control. The waves of pleasure were soon to splash over their shore as they forced the shouts of ecstasy to die within their clenching throats. Their lips found one another and crashed like their hips time after time, until the climax was so powerful between them, they swallowed each other's screams, their names and groans of unrelenting pleasure that exploded like a chemical bomb. Tifa's ragged nails clawed into Reno's sides as her hands gripped her hips so hard the bruises began to form instantly. Their destination was reached, and Tifa lay exhausted upon her second time lover.

Reno, with an affectionate touch, ran his fingers gently through her wet hair, slathered in perspiration. He closed his eyes and his chest swelled with that feeling he didn't want to name. Good God he didn't want to _know_. It was something he didn't need, he didn't want, but couldn't control. He would ignore it. He _had _to.

"You never sleep with a woman more than once." Tifa mused with a tender, quiet laugh while she drew an invisible circle upon his glistening shoulder and listened to the settling sound of his thudding heartbeat.

He paused before he let an answer leave him, attempting to recall a time that now seemed so distant and timeless, "I did. It was way too long ago. Before you were born." She laughed at that, knowing it was an exaggeration. When she didn't say anything, he kept talking. "She was my first everything. First lover, first date, first girlfriend."

"What was her name?" Tifa inquired meekly, curiously.

The Turk took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the warmth that clung to the air after their time together, "Sauntia. We were together for years, since I was sixteen. She was...something." He laughed lightly as he put his hands behind his head. It was odd, even for him to be speaking about another woman while he was still inside his present sexual partner, "Feisty, ambitious, vain. We argued more than we got along, but when we did--we were on fire. She was a nature activist, kind of like you and your gang, except not so radical at the time."

He felt Tifa shift a little as a small smile touched her lips. She wasn't bothered at all by the conversation, and it caused a little flicker of annoyance. "What happened between you two?" she asked softly, the tone of her voice taking a languid edge to it.

"I joined the Turks, and said she couldn't date a man who'd kill a man for an organization that has no heart for mankind or the Planet, but only for the man they look at in the mirror everyday." He shrugged his shoulders at the memory. "Never saw her again." The memory was numb, one in his time he normally avoided, as it would cause the pain to return. Now, there was simply no feeling to it.

The question he absolutely dreaded to hear was asked, and didn't even realize it until it was spoken. "Did you love her?"

He lay still and quiet as he collected his thoughts, visibly bothered by the remembrance of emotion. It was a time in life he had moved past. It had been rocky, agonizing, and downright pitiful at times, but he managed. Reliving it now just left him detached. "Yeah." He heaved a sigh, releasing the memory with that breath, "I need to get outta here. Work you know."

Tifa nodded in compliance and shifted to move, but he rolled her onto her back before she had the opportunity. And still she smiled, though it was a smile filled with promises of a fitful, restful slumber, it was still meant for him. He kissed those smiling lips before he stood from her listless form, gazing at her radiance in appreciative adoration. He knew before he made the decision that he wouldn't regret a second go around with her, or a third, or perhaps even a fourth. With her, there would be few regrets.

Before his thoughts fell upon things beyond his current comprehension, he slipped on his scattered clothing as he watched her slip between her blanket and sheets, cuddling with the bed attire as she gazed at him through the adjusted darkness, "See you tomorrow?"

With his shoes the last of his clothing before he left to retrieve his fallen blazer from the steps, he gave her a cocky, knowing grin as he reached for the door, "Probably. But I might have something more important to attend to."

There was no further response. The soft breathing from the woman beneath the sheets was the only sign he needed to know she'd fallen blissfully into a deep slumber. Unable to keep the smile from taking form, he left the sleeping angel to her dreams, hoping that he was somewhere within.


	4. Drunken Emotion

**A/N: Just a minor bit of clarification for this story. I have not played Dirge so I'm not familiar with WRO or whatever the hell it is and how Reeve is associated. That being said, for the sake of this story I'm going to assume he's still linked with Shin-Ra. So deal with it. R&R, I definitely appreciate any and all feedback. And thank you to everyone who already has. I'm working my little brain in a frenzy with this story. Peace be with you.**

"Boys Don't Cry"  
_Drunken Emotion_

Feelings. Feelings made what was once rational, irrational. Feelings made everything that was once logical, illogical. This was the exact issue Reno Tarshil was beating himself senseless over.

Their second sexual escapade had set a new tone to the blooming relationship. What seemed as just casual acquaintances could thereafter be graciously labeled as 'friends-with-benefits'. Aside from their lust-filled encounters, they had learned a bit more about each other's anatomy than the normal friend would have ever thought to wonder such as Tifa's red zones lying with the tender flesh just below the earlobes, the center of her breasts, and the inner bend of her arms. She in turn learned rather quickly Reno's sensitive spots lingered along his spine and feather-light caresses to his ankles.

It appeared on the surface to be meaningless, spontaneous acts of fornication with one's former adversary after hours; while fucking each other's brains out, the rest of the population slept within their cozy beds heedless to the acts done upon the bar counter, or the floor, or against various walls...

But to Reno Tarshil, second in command to the Shin-Ra Turks; it was anything but meaningless sex.

All he could do was blame himself. If he hadn't pushed her the first time, if he hadn't opened his big mouth about Cloud--hell, if he hadn't been born, none of this would have taken place. In fact, he was content with blaming his mother for fucking his father and popping him out of...wherever babies came from. Perhaps the thought was a little out there, but one thing he was definitely to blame for...

He should have never gone back on his rule of 'no second time lovers'.

Because of the travesty he brought upon himself, he was left with the bitter consequences of _feelings_. Even though it didn't seem right to focus the blame to a second night of passion, Reno was happy to oblige the temporary relief it gave him. However, it didn't come close to solving the initial problem.

He was still stuck with this _feeling_. A feeling that made his heart pound and his blood boil. A feeling that caused his fleeting thoughts to focus on a fantasy containing a lifetime of subtle routine and joint living accommodations with _her_. A feeling that gripped him like a golden bear trap, locked and chained tight from any hope from release. The poor bastard was stuck.

Over the course of the week, Tifa and Reno often found themselves in compromising positions after bar hours which always ended with the redhead returning to his cold quarters after he laid his lover to rest. They'd never speak of the act after it occurred, completely content with the silent knowledge that it happened, and they were more than pleased with the results. As far as they knew, no one else was aware of their erotic confrontations despite the questions upon the tongues of Tifa's workers or the knowing look from Reno's comrade Rude.

Unaware of whom she was receiving pleasure from, her waitresses were very much aware she was receiving it from somewhere, and it surely wasn't from her blond come-and-go roommate that had been absent forever and a day. Upon their inquiries, she'd merely smile and carry on with whatever task beheld her. It wasn't their business, and she was aiming for it to remain that way.

When it came to Reno's bald best friend, he seemed to be able to read Tarshil like an open book. They'd been friends and partners for years, and if Rude was satisfied with an extended speech pattern, he'd probably be able to finish his friend's sentences. Alas, such was not the case and both were glad for it. Might as well be joined at the hip if they started that bullshit. But Reno didn't have to say anything at all. Never did he question his behavior or where he was located at ungodly hours of the night. Sometimes when a friendship is that strong...you just know.

He also knew of the feeling his friend was being pestered with. It was like an infection within the Turk that held only one cure, one the infected wasn't quite willing to touch just yet. Rude never asked, but boy was he curious. But it was also clear to him whatever was going on with her meant more to him than he was willing to let on. That was just Reno's way.

And a scheduled poker night would prove just how deep those feelings laid.

O o O

"I know you're there, Rude!" Reno half yelled, half slurred down the street as his right toe collided with the beaten curb. He was lucky to catch his balance with the street light in his path, but barely.

Leaving Reeve's home after what was suppose to be a friendly night of poker left this Turk in a foul mood beyond even his understanding. It was supposed to be poker. _Just_ poker. But no, thanks to Elena who couldn't seem to handle losing her hard-earned company gil to her second in command every hand tried on her nerves a bit too much, opted for a change of pace that inadvertently set the record straight of Reno's nightly excursions. The change of pace was the most juvenile drinking game he'd ever heard of, but since the others were just as tired of losing their money, they seemed to be gung-ho for the idea.

He knew he worked with a load of queers.

_"I never slept with three people in the same night," Elena said, a goofy grin on her face as she scanned the participants of their little drinking game._

_It had struck one a.m. three minutes ago when the Shin-Ra poker buddies abandoned their game for a juvenile drinking game courtesy of Elena's request. She, of course, was obliged with the first question of the night._

_Reeve took a swift surveillance of his condo to realize chairs were not yet upturned and beer bottles didn't litter the plush cream carpet and wooden dining table just yet--most had actually made it to the waste bin. It gave him a small sense of relief to know he wouldn't have to exert too much energy to bring his comfortable abode to order. That could change of course, but for the time being he'd take pleasure with the earlier assessed knowledge. Upon the quick survey, he couldn't help but also take note of Reno's somber mood. Tseng usually had that benefit, yet he seemed to be in rare form himself. He had decided to indulge himself in some of the alcoholic festivities and was obviously feeling the effects of said beverages. He seemed...content, less stiff than the Tseng everyone within the room was used to._

_He also took a shot, which caused the other comrades in the room to stare in quiet shock. Tseng merely looked at his co-workers with a grin and a shrug, "I had my wild times in the past." _

_Elena forced her agape mouth shut before reaching for the vodka bottle and pouring her boss another, readying him for the next round, "Okay okay, it's your turn." _

_"This is a God damn retarded game, Laney," Reno suddenly piped up, focusing his attention on the deck of cards by attempting a card house...and failing repeatedly. His partner Rude reached to aid his efforts, but the hand was promptly swatted away, "My house."_

_His mind for the most part was on other things, and attended the current event to kill time before meeting up with his 'friend'. Saturday nights always had Tifa working later than usual due to the abundant demands of customers and the surplus numbers that came to the facility. Patience was a virtue, but it was one he was severely lacking at this moment in time._

_"Puh-lease, Reno. A bit adverse to trying something new?" Elena retorted with a roll to her eyes. Reno cut her a glare while opening his mouth to respond, but was cut off quickly by his blond comrade whose attention was completely on Tseng. He was busy balancing his metallic foldout chair on the back legs with a wild smile to his lips. It didn't seem he could handle his liquor entirely too well, which would make perfect sense as to why he didn't regularly touch the stuff in the first place, "Come on Tseng, ask something."_

_  
"Fuck Tseng, I got one." Reno announced, grinning mischievously at the female Turk, "I never drew doodles of me and Tseng's future together with 2.5 children, a dog, a cat, and a house with a white picket fence and leave it in my desk drawer, top left brilliantly filed under 'unfinished mission reports'."_

_The statement earned dead silence as all eyes fell upon a red-faced Elena, who could do nothing more than raise a trembling shot glass to her lips and throw back the liquid with an unsatisfied 'gulp'. Silence fell away as a warm eruption of hysterical laughter filled the complex. Even Tseng found himself basking in the humor at her expense. _

_Upon seeing her evident humiliation, Reno almost felt sorry for attacking below the belt. He hadn't had a cigarette in a week and a half, his inner turmoil was frustrating the hell out of him, and all he could do is take it out on the one woman of their group who obviously had a difficult time handling it. But hell...she was such an easy target._

_What would Tifa say about his actions..._

_He frowned at himself, his laughter quieting almost instantly at the thought, "Hey, Elena, I didn't me--"_

_"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you Reno!" She bellowed, followed by a drinker's cough, the alcohol burning with a sensational lick in the back of her throat. With a deep breath, she calmed herself, her hazel eyes cutting over to the scarlet haired Turk with vengeance in her eyes. "I've got your game, you little bitch. I've never bought flowers for Tifa Lockhart."_

_The tension was so thick it was as if everyone was stuck within their own red brick wall. Reno in particular was actually at a loss for words. How did she know! It seemed so long ago in his mind that he had purchased that gift of forgiveness, and the buds themselves had long since dried and died out. Sure, people knew he bought flowers, but how did she know whom they went to? He should have known walls had ears and big mouths, like she did. He was a bit too embarrassed and irritated himself to make logical sense of it. All he knew was he wasn't ready to approach this issue, wasn't ready to come clean._

_And he didn't have to--It was Rude who downed his shot._

_"Rude," Reeve said softly, watching the large man shift in his seat as Reno's eyes pierced right though his skin, "I didn't realize you and Tifa had something going. I figured she would have mentioned it."_

_"Because they're fucking not, that's why. Rude, you lying sack of shit, you don't have to lie for me. I'm a big boy, you know," Reno scolded, "You better not have or I'll kick your sorry ass so hard you'll sprout hair from your head to your ass." He instantly felt guilty for the accusatory remark. It was that spark of jealousy coming to haunt him. It was brief, merely light in the dark, but present all the same. His friend simply made an attempt to save his face, and he did nothing but proverbially slap him for it. Fortunately for him, Rude appeared completely unfazed by the threat._

_However, someone in the room just couldn't let well enough alone._

_"I never slept with Tifa Lockhart."_

_Elena's one problem throughout her entire career was that she talked just way too much. She revealed too much information, and didn't know when to shut her mouth._

_  
This was obviously one of those times._

_It would appear everyone sobered immediately with the comment, and all eyes shifted around the room. No one moved--no one but Reno._

_Tonight was obviously the night the secrets were to come out, and for Reno's sake he was willing to numb himself for the experience. He first reached for his shot glass as his intense aqua eyes connected with the inquirer, who sat frozen and afraid of what he might do finally coming to grips she'd made a terrible error in judgment. A drunk Reno had a tendency to be pretty unpredictable, "You don't know what you're missing. In fact, I fucked her once," he downed his shot, and snatched Elena's up from across the table so quick she flinched at the action, but remained silent, "twice," Tseng's was next on the list whose system was probably completely drained of the mind-altering alcohol by now, "thrice...hell, you fuckers ain't got enough shots on the God damn table with how many times I made her scream my name!" With that, he scooped up the bottle and guzzled the remainder without so much as a momentary breath to steady the flow. It was as if he swallowed the vodka waterfall in one go._

_Reeve was at a loss, but only for a second as he was quickly realizing what this situation was about to turn into. Reno was at best a happy drunk, but if angered while drinking, the effect could be more than disastrous--it could cause causalities, "I think it's time for everyone to go home."_

_Without protest, Elena grabbed for her coat and bolted for the door, hoping to be quick enough before Reno caught sight of her departing figure. With luck on her side, the man in question ignored her retreat to turn to Rude, who regarded him quietly with calm concern, "Rude...next time I see that bitch, I swear I'm gonna pistol whip her." _

_"You did start it," Rude defended, obviously unconcerned by Reno's potential for a mood swing. They'd been drinking buddies for as long as he could remember, and never had he been struck by his friend._

_Reno found himself glaring heatedly at the bald Turk, aggravated by his stance on the issue, "Pssh, whatever. She started it with that stupid game. What the hell was it called? And you dumb queers went along with it. Of all the lame shit you guys have agreed to, this has gotta be the lamest, girlyist--know what...forget it, I'm outta here." _

_All four men stood simultaneously, but it was only the redhead of the bunch that moved, and stumbled toward the front door. The liquor hit him at once, as if he'd been socked in all body parts at least twice and left him struggling to regain ground. He managed, but not without the aid of a wall or two. In the distance, he heard a brief conversation. He couldn't make out most of what was said, except for the last sentence stated by Tseng, "It would be best if you follow him home. There is no telling what he'll do this night."_

_Assholes._

So now he had a pint of pent up aggression toward a particular female Turk as well as three beers, and a bottle and a half of vodka in his system. Making his way through the streets of Midgar was no easy feat, but he was surely managing. He also noticed, despite his glazed over vision, that a certain blue suit was following him every step of the way. Picking out the unique sound of the footsteps, he narrowed the stalker down to his good friend Rude who apparently wasn't comfortable watching his partner in crime make it home alone without a distant escort. Not to mention Tseng told him to.

By now he must have been aware it wasn't home that Reno was going to.

He missed her. In these past hours of work and play, she was the on the forefront of his mind. The event that had taken place less than an hour ago had only made the feeling worsen three fold. Elena knew. That meant _everyone_ on that side of the Planet knew as well. Had word gotten back to Tifa, or was the information still deaf upon her ears? He couldn't know unless he asked, and he would rather ignore it than approach it, just like everything else in his life.

When did things become so complicated? Since when did he care if anyone knew he was having wild, passionate, almost frequent sex with a former Avalanche crony? When did his heart begin to override his mind and his conscience become a prominent factor in his life? His mind was telling him to back off, to quit before it became too painful. But Reno was also stubborn, and allowed his heart for once to do some of the talking. Not all of course, or else he would have told her...

"You know what Rude? You bein' my freakin' shadow ain't really all that cool and shit... Go home, man," the words were barely coherent as they tumbled from his lips. He was sweating from the humidity and the alcohol seeping from his pores, his body releasing the poisons from inside. He was half a street away from his destination, and it was time for his silent companion to hightail it.

To his surprise, his bald stalker stood before his eyes, as if he appeared through a magical fog and materialized before him. Instead it was just Reno's brain processing his arrival a bit too late, "You don't seem in any condition for her company."

Her company... Tifa. "What the hell do you know?" Reno snapped, realizing suddenly that trying to stand straight in one spot wasn't working out, and consciously leaned his back against a light post behind him. The post was a few steps farther than anticipated, and he crashed against the metal stand, but accomplished his goal nonetheless. The light was annoying, but it was currently the least of his problems. It'd been weeks since he'd gotten piss drunk, and didn't have the intention to that night either. But circumstances arose, and that clear, flaming heaven in a bottle did just the trick to numb some of the hurt he was ignoring, "I'm fine, seriously."

Rude didn't even have to say a word before he confessed. "Okay, no, I'm fuckin' drunker than Tseng is impotent. So the fuck what?"

"I think you should go home."

Reno glared dangerously, shaking his head and wavering with the motion. He made a mental note not to repeat it, "Hell no, Rude, I'm already here. I gotta see her..." His mouth was suddenly dry as he attempted to swallow. The confession left an odd taste in his mouth, and a different pattern for his heart to beat to.

Rude noticed the subtle change, and his expression softened slightly, "Why don't you just give in?"

Although he was inebriated to the point of stumbling and forgetting his mother's name, he still comprehended the question. He comprehended everything in relation to her... "Because...because I don't..."

"You don't deserve her."

It all made sense to him, even in a moment where the alcohol in his system had the potential to wipe his memory slate clean of this night once his head hit a pillow, he knew why everything was so complicated. He knew why this entire adventure with Tifa Lockhart had his mind in such a twist since it started. He couldn't tell her, because he didn't deserve her. He couldn't progress, because he didn't deserve her. Sure, he'd toyed with the idea before, but he hadn't realized until that moment that he truly believed it--wholeheartedly.

But there was something much deeper and barely touched upon since it passed. The one love of his life rejected his due to his occupation. He couldn't possibly convey how much Sauntia had meant to him to the other woman in his arms, and how ready to she was to abandon him despite his compromising position with finances and his grandmothers' needs, but she had left a wound that never healed, and it was a gash he didn't care to subject himself to a second time. It was the reason for his rule long since broken that began his downward spiral into self-doubt and uncertainty.

"She already knows you're a Turk. And she accepts you still," Rude really could read him like an open book. He deftly remembered the night he had spoken to his companion about his lost love with such clarity he felt his throat constrict for an instant. The bottled emotion was becoming a ticking time bomb with its detonation set too close for comfort.

"Tifa is good one." Rude's voice snapped him clear from his train of thought and back into reality, with shining streetlights and howling alley dogs. "You should give it a try."

"Yeah," Reno agreed quietly, feeling himself sober minimally with the conversation and distant memories, "I'll have to kill Strife first, though."

Rude smirked at the comment, nodding in agreement, "He's only an obstacle if he's around."

"That's what you think!" the redhead shot back, recalling what it took to get her to cease from making references to the Chocobo-boy, for the sadness in her eyes to wash away when and if she thought of her longtime childhood friend, "It was a bitch and a half to get her to quit crying over the puberty stricken bastard."

"But she did."

In his own little way, Rude was trying to give him some encouragement, some supportive words to be unafraid to approach the next step, to rinse away the fear that had him spellbound from acknowledging the feeling that was holding him hostage. Reno wasn't prone to such attachment, and it wasn't something that was ready to turn tail and flee for its next victim. This Turk was stuck like Chuck at a chick flick. "Rude, I didn't mean to...you know, earlier, jump on ya back there about sticking up for me."

His friend held up a hand and shook his head. He already knew, and there was nothing left to say. "Be good to her." With those final words, Rude did as earlier requested by his partner in crime, and left Reno to his endeavor. And as Reno watched him fade to black, he couldn't be more content with the type a man that lay within the retreating figure. Sometimes no words were necessary--you just knew what they were before they're ever spoken.

Then it hit him. _Be good to her?_ What about him? What about _his_ feelings? Didn't anyone care about his heart being splattered on the pavement by the martial artist's fists? It also occurred to him his track record was a bit more questionable than her own. He supposed the concern was justified. Besides, if memory served him correctly, Rude's affections were directed toward Miss Lockhart at one point in time. Still...

Taking in a very deep, steadying breath, Reno tested his balance away from the lamppost. It was wobbly, but as long as his heels stayed on concrete he was good to go. Falling into his drunken stride, he resumed his trek toward 7th Heaven with a bit of lingering hesitation. Earlier, nothing could stop him from stepping through the doorway, taking her in his arms and relishing in the time they had to spend with one another, even if they did retain the title of 'friends'. Now, with his thoughts in such a jumbled mess, he wasn't sure what he wanted any longer. This thought gave him slight pause, but soon continued with the tight clench within his chest at the thought of abandoning an opportunity with her.

When he entered the complex, the lights remained on and the majority of the chairs and stools were upturned above ground. The floor was speckless and the glasses sparkled with a glossy, spotless finish. It was the trivial these things he noticed first and foremost before his vision registered the off-duty bartender. She sat within the last remaining chair upon the wooden floor, her form slumped over the table with her head cradled snuggly against her folded arms. There was such a peaceful look upon her face, he didn't dare wish to disturb her.

He knew she'd sat up waiting for him even though her night had to have been beyond exhausting as Saturday nights always tended to be. Her only relief was in the knowledge of Sunday being a gracious rest period as the bar remained closed to give the beaten bartender a much-needed breather. She worked too hard.

Upon closing and locking the door behind his entrance, he carefully shuffled to her side. Sobriety was slowly creeping on him, but not as swiftly as he would have liked. Allowing her to slumber in such a position was not at all acceptable. He knew how it felt the next morning--neck in a crick and spine at a curve.

Gathering all of his sobering strength in the task, he curled an arm beneath the bend of her bare legs as he pulled the rest of her body against his chest. So soft and firm, she felt divine against his physique. Even as she shifted in her sleep, her warmth spread throughout his body and just for a moment made him feel whole again. This feeling was certainly magical as it was destructive. It would all depend on how it was handled in the future.

The pathway upstairs was more challenging than anticipated. With every two steps up, Reno felt himself stumble a step back down. And when he allowed her feet to crash with the undisturbed banister, he scolded himself for his lack of focus and motor skills. Forcing himself the rest of the way with speed and efficiency, he all but dropped Lockhart onto her perfectly made bed, complete with clean linen and fluffy, scream muffling pillows.

As eyelids fluttered slowly open, her hands grasped at his collar before he could completely pull out of her line of fire, "Reno...come lay down with me."

There was no protest in his body language, though he realized how difficult sharing her single bed was about to be. Tifa seemed to realize this as well, scooting over as far as she could muster as the Turk slid to lie beside her. With a bit of maneuvering, the two managed to cuddle comfortably together. Reno lay with half of her body upon him, the other half upon the bed beneath.

"You've been drinking." Tifa stated. If there was one thing that never got past her, it was a man who had been indulging in alcoholic pleasures way too much in one night.

Reno didn't let the comment faze him. Instead he claimed playful ignorance, "How do you figure?"

His inquiry recieved laughter from his companion, which in turn gave him a reason to find the humor, "You practically bumped me into a wall on the way up, and you reek of vodka."

Reno frowned slightly at the reply, craning his head to look down into her face, "You were awake the whole time?"

She nodded, yawning as she answered him, but didn't grace him with a verbal reply. Sleep was beginning to reclaim her, and she was just about willing to give in to its call.

The Turk simply listened to the soft breaths she emitted as he noticed them fall into a steady pattern. He knew this pattern well, though it seemed to mark the end of his brief visitation. He shifted to slip from the bed, "I gotta go. Wo...well..." he trailed off, searching for a viable excuse but coming up with nil.

"Exactly." Lockhart was fully aware that this Turk was granted with an off day, and his excuse for departure was fruitless at best. "Besides, you're too drunk to go anywhere." She giggled gently at her next thought, which she spoke aloud, "Just be gone before Barret gets here to pick up the kids."

"Oh great, that's all I need. A thousand bullets in my body for trying to take advantage of Tifa Lockhart. Hopefully he'll kill me in my sleep so I don't piss my pants in terror." His sarcasm earned another small spout of laughter, which allowed him to settle back against the sheets. This time, his arms slid around the brunette beauty beside him, his embrace firm and comforting about her form. His mind trailed back to his earlier conversation with a certain fellow Turk, and found his stomach tie into knot another agonizing knot. He shouldn't be afraid of this, this closeness. He shouldn't be afraid of this _feeling_. For God sakes, he was a hired killer, yet it was emotion he was horrified to tackle. As ashamed as he felt, he couldn't shake the feeling.

"You know..." he began solemnly, running a fingertip or two along the course of her chocolate locks, "I think you need to...take an extra night off next week. Since, you know, the kids won't be around. Have the other girls close up for you."

He could feel her smile against his chest, "That would be nice."

Her positive agreement gave him encouragement, "Right, so you should go somewhere nice. Indulge yourself in, say, a nice restaurant for dinner...or something."

There was a long pause within the room, and try as Reno might to battle the hasty pitter-patter of his chest, there was no calming the exultant muscle from anticipation.

But she surprised him. "Only if you take me..."

There were no further words as he felt her body melt completely against his own, sleep finally taking its claim upon her. Would she remember this conversation, or would she find it to be a pleasant dream she'd awaken from? Hell, would he even remember the entire night, or let it freefall from his memory banks?

No longer feeling so drunk, but every bit as tired as the woman within his arms, he let sleep take him as well. There was some semblance of hope, some shining light in the distance that captivated him, and let him know things might work out after all.

His last thought before he was completely taken over was how he just broke his other rule by staying the night with her, and had absolutely no regrets.


	5. The Date

**A/N: So...it's been a very long time. I looked back at some of the reviews which were very supportive and I wish I knew why I stopped writing. It think real life happened and the muse never returned. Well, if people are still paying attention, here's a new chapter to try and get this sucker jumpstarted again. Reviews are appreciated, and will let me know how to progress.**

"Boy's Don't Cry"

Chapter 5: The Date

A date.

A date.

A _date._

A one night tryst was becoming more than the bartender had ever fathomed. Something blossomed beneath her bosom that night, something borne from lust and attraction, a need to forget shifted into something much more prominent. The gentle touches, the casual glances, the careless stagger, and the infuriating smirk...something had happened to her. It had completely altered her prospective of a former enemy turned part-time lover. Certainly one could consider them 'friends' before the night in question, but it opened the floodgates to a deeper level of understanding that was more than she ever bargained for.

And now they were on a date.

Tifa Lockheart peered at the Turk from across the table, past the flickering flame the candle emitted from its wick set just so in the middle of the cream pressed cloth. Fine china was set before them in elegant detail, wine glasses half filled with a potent Merlot that made her toes curl. And her date...

His hair was of it's usual style, though loose strands seemed to be carefully brushed from his face and into the rest of his scarlet mane. He wore a dark suit, not much different from his normal dress as a Turk but black in color. He looked a bit uncomfortable. In fact...

He was sweating.

A brief wrinkle of her nose at this observation caused her date to shift his attention from the menu before him to her. At once, she replaced it with a gentle smile, averting her own eyes to the finely printed text, which simply caused her frown in thought. Who in their right mind would ever _eat_ Blugu soup?

The atmosphere was not lost on Tifa. Reno had gone beyond his comfort zone to treat her to something better than burgers, drunks, and booze. The gesture was sweet, but somehow this just wasn't her, and she knew it wasn't him. But how to tell him...

"So..." she heard Reno clear his throat, a hooked finger tugging at his ironed collar, adjusting and readjusting, "Whatcha want? Don't hold back and get a salad or something girly like that. Doesn't really do anything for a woman's image letting us guys think she eats like a bird and suddenly she's devouring everything in our fridge and eating shit - I mean food off of our plates because she's starved herself for weeks."

She chuckled. "And you would know this how?"

The redhead grinned a touch, taking a loud gulp of his wine which earned a few glances his way. He was already on his third glass, and they'd only been seated five minutes. "Powers of observation, my dear. Besides...Rude's had a couple like that. Blew a third of his savings trying to keep food in his house. And you chicks think we're pigs..."

Despite feeling severely out of place, she felt herself smiling warmly at him, taking to her own glass of wine. The sheen from his forehead was seemingly dissipating with the conversation, his tense frame appearing to relax each passing moment. "I get the feeling you are just as used to this setting as I am."

Tarshil scoffed at the comment, leaning back in his chair far enough to find himself balancing on two legs. This earned many disapproving glares. "I'm a regular. And what do you mean by that, anyhow? Thought you'd like a fancy-schmancy place like this for a change."

She continued to disguise her discomfort through reassuring smiles, but she couldn't seem to get her limbs to loosen appropriately. Oddly enough, his childish display made her that much more at ease. "It's nice...thank you."

The man seemed to beam at his date. "You're welcome. The reservation alone cost me a weeks' salary. I expect a return on my investment." He winked, and she couldn't help but feel a familiar warmth flood across her skin. It was a feeling another man used to be able to bring forth, a certain Spiky-haired blond that was certainly scouring the World for God knows what, but now...

"Ahem..." A middle aged man approached their table with a clean white towel draped carefully over his arm. Even the towel looked as though it was crafted from fine, expensive cotton. Tifa felt her stomach turn. "Are you ready to order?"

Reno did not appear discouraged, swiping for his menu while continuing his balancing act. "I think so, Geeves - "

"It's Curtis - "

"Yeah, Geeves - "

"Could you please place all legs upon the floor, sir?"

"Reno..."

"Hey now, I'm payin' a lot of money here, just like everyone else, and if I feel like rocking back on a chair - "

"But sir please - "

"You must know who I am. I'm a Turk, all right? Do you know what I could do to you? I know how to kill a man thirteen different ways with my eyes closed. Now if I want to rock on my chair - "

"Sir are you _threatening_ me?"

"Does a Marlboro's breath smell like ass cheese and rotten Chocobo eggs?"

"I don't kn - "

"Well it does, so yeah, I guess I am."

"_Reno..._"

The Turk suddenly jerked his head to focus on Tifa, watching how the firelight set her features aglow, delicate and ethereal. The solid gaze of tender authority behind her eyes, catching the sparkle of the dancing flame between them. There was a silence in his chest before the rhythm carried on with it's insistent march, and his breath continued. He came upon the front legs of his chair with a thud, never lifting his eyes from the beauty before him.

He handed the menu absently to the waiter. "Seared Zuu..."

Curtis gave a small sigh of relief as he took the laminated parchment into his grasp and turned to the lady. "For you, Miss?"

Tifa paused, and paused for a long time as her eyes fell to her lap. There were too many eyes on her - Reno, the waiter, a good portion of the restaurant - she found herself squirming under their scrutiny. Coupled with the fact that this place was not on her top hundred places to visit, she found herself shaking her head. "Nothing."

"What?" Both men responded.

She bit her lip and looked up from her lap to her date, "Reno...let's go somewhere else. It's too...it's not...I don't...can we just go?"

The waiter appeared incredulous, but Reno's face lit up so brightly one would have thought Christmas came early and Santa dumped a truck load of presents on his lap. "Well then, what the lady wants she gets!" Standing, he dug into his back pocket, retrieving his wallet and dumping a handful of gil upon the table. "Keep the change, Geeves."

Relief washed over the martial artists' as she stood as well, smoothing her emerald dress over her thighs. In moments, they were arm in arm out of the door and into the warm summer night, a gaping server in the midst.

* * *

The feeling was odd. He couldn't place his finger on the exact source, but there was a shift in the air. Perhaps it was his full stomach, filled aplenty with Tifa's home cooked goodness that brought the beginnings of a hearty burp to his throat, which he promptly swallowed. They were on a 'date' after all, and despite his antics at the restaurant earlier that night, he had it in his blood to be a gentleman every now and then.

A date...he still couldn't believe he asked her. It was all so official. He had weaseled his way onto the list at 'Chateau De Gaia' by separating himself from a handful or two of gil and a well placed threat of testicle removal. And she was right, the place was far from his scene, but he was willing to spare no expense for her.

Which left him feeling uneasy with the whole affair. He knew there were emotions flourishing deep within his chest cavity and what he called a 'heart', the icy layer melting into puddles of forgotten heartache, and he was either too cowardly or too lazy to stop it. There was a large part of him that was anxious to take this endeavor beyond that of the physicality. In fact, dare he think it, he wanted a label.

Internally, the Turk scoffed at the thought. This deep thinking was bruising his brain. Instead, he focused his attention on the bartenders' boobs, and how they were confined in that emerald dress. How it was such a shame that his hands were on the table instead of on those mounds of perfect flesh. But the man urged himself to behave, even though his mind was racing, his palms were sweating, and his pants were a bit tighter than what would be deemed comfortable.

"How was it? You...haven't said a word." Tifa looked at him expectantly from across the wooden table. Her fingers were linked together, her battle worn yet beautifully delicate hands placed beneath her chin. Her eyes were wide with almost a childlike innocence that he couldn't image belonging to a woman of her caliber, with all of the trauma she had been through. But there she was, staring at him with those glossy irises of hers waiting for a word, a confirmation that her efforts had not gone to waste.

The offer had come from her to cook. Upon leaving the restaurant, they realized just how famished they were. The idea of going elsewhere quickly fell out of favor, and she was quick to offer an alternative. And it was much to his delight - he couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal.

Well he could. But he didn't want to. He didn't care what Rude's ex said, fried Cactuar guts was not a delicacy anywhere. Booze and TV dinners became his fail safe from then on.

"Well, where I come from, if someone doesn't say anything while they're scarfing down a meal from a hot woman, it's either because it's good, or they don't want to be brained by a frying pan," he snickered, patting his mouth with the napkin to his side before he tossed it to the empty plate before him. "For crying out loud woman, didn't you see me lick the plate?"

Her laugh burned him like an inferno, and he wondered how much longer he had it in him to be a gentleman. "I suppose you're right."

"I could get used to this treatment, you know. I'm like a cat - once you feed me, I'm never leaving." A roiling in his chest made him almost regret the words. He was becoming far too emotional, and opening himself up for that pain again left a bitter taste in his mouth. He chugged the rest of his wine.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," came her reply, and he thought he'd come completely undone.

The tie at his neck had disappeared long ago, the top two buttons of his collar released so he could breathe, but he wasn't so sure that was going to be enough. Thankfully, he had a lot of practice at lying and hiding things that his current state was difficult to detect. How long, however, was uncertain. "You sure you want a dirty Turk slinking up to your doorsteps for scraps every night?"

Tifa frowned playfully, crumbling her napkin and tossing it at his face. "It's not much different than what you do now."

He caught the wad as it bopped him in the nose as fell into his open palm. "Well...there's that." There were questions in his mind, his heart, and tongue, but they formed and died. He didn't want to ask, he didn't want to know. Because he was afraid that in the end, his efforts would not be enough, that he could promise her the moon and _deliver_ it, but when her childhood friend stepped across the threshold, it wouldn't make a difference. Their bond, their union would dissolve like paper mache in a rainstorm, and he'd be left with the sodden pieces of what was his heart.

Lockheart stood from her seat, beginning to gather the dishes from the table. She stacked them like a pro on the bend of her elbow, a warm smile on her lips as she took to this chore. From his viewpoint, it didn't seem like a chore at all. It came so naturally to her - serving and cleaning up after others. It filled him with an anger he didn't know he possessed, anger that was directed at Cloud Strife for being completely blind to the treasure he left behind time and time again. She would clean up after him as well, serve him, be his rock, and all he would do in return is abandon her.

Ass.

His throat constricted, the room suddenly closing in on him. He couldn't take it. He wouldn't be second fiddle to a jackass who didn't deserve a shit stain on his trousers let alone someone like Tifa Lockheart. And how damaged was she, accepting this torture over and over again?

Well fuck it. He was done.

"Uh..." he stammered, standing to his feet.

"Hm?" She asked from behind the counter, the water running as she rinsed the dishes with a quiet hum.

The words, the carefully selected words he'd plucked from the folds of his brain fell apart, and all that was left was a jumbled mush of nonsense. Instead, he opted for another tactic. "I need to get going. Work tomorrow...kinda early."

"Oh?" She responded, abandoning the pile to walk toward him.

He moved faster than she, reaching for the tie he cast over the back of a chair to his left, sweeping it around his neck. His legs carried him to the exit slower than he wanted. He wanted to _run_, but that would be more than obvious. "Yeah, Tseng's being a dick again. You'd think he'd get used to toilet paper on his car by now, but no."

That smile again. It was bright and cheerful, and now he knew he couldn't say it. He couldn't tell her he just couldn't do it, that he wouldn't open himself up to be kicked in the chest. He tried to return the smile, but it failed to reach a fragment of what she must have been feeling for him inside.

He just couldn't believe that those feelings were true, and not borne of sheer loneliness.

"See you tomorrow?" The smile was falling, becoming something a bit darker, as if she suspected there was something not quite right about the moment.

Leaning over, he touched her lips with his. A soft, delicate goodbye. She wouldn't know that this was the end, but he would. He would know he'd fight against his every instinct to ever come back.

But with her arms slipping around his neck, bringing her tighter, closer to him, his resolve began to shimmer and shake, hazy in the distant horizon. Pulled in too many directions - stay, go, love her, leave her - the man was utterly torn.

His body, however, would always betray him, bringing her just as close as his hands found their way to her hips, molding her against his lanky frame.

And just as quickly, he pulled back and released her, forcing a tease of a smirk on his visage. "Now now, don't get me all riled up unless you plan a follow through."

With a shake of her head, she took an innocent step back, clasping her hands behind her. "Of course! I'm so sorry. I'll remember to keep my hands to myself."

_Please don't..._ He sighed internally. With a wink to his favorite bartender, he left the bar without a further word.

And wondered what the hell he was going to do without her.


	6. Discovered

**A/N: A couple more chapters and this sucker is done! Thank you to the lone reviewer of the last chapter. I appreciate at least letting me know you read and enjoyed it. A see a lot of traffic, but unfortunately I don't know by those numbers if should keep trucking. Anyway... One of my favorite characters makes an appearance here. He's so terribly underrated, but he just so badass. Well, enjoy.**

"Boys Don't Cry"

Chapter 6: Discovered

It had been four days.

Visits were a nightly endeavor, a constant she had come to expect. His lazy swagger across the threshold, his hands deep into his pockets with that silly, self satisfied smirk on his face. She had come to rely on his presence as well as his kiss, his touch, his rapid breath against her ear during their trysts. Without him, the bar, her home felt empty and void. It was something she had become used to at one time in her life, but now the wound that was healing was beginning to reopen, and she wasn't certain she had the strength to close it again.

She had called his cell phone numerous times to only be directed to a familiar voice mail.

The signs were ever present during the last few minutes of their date, yet her stubbornness refused to see it and address it for what it was - he was telling her goodbye.

Was it something she said? Something she did? Was the steak overcooked?

The accusatory tone of her own inner dialogue was deafening, and she forced it silent with work she had been neglecting - cleaning under the refrigerator, mopping the bar floor, reorganizing the liquor bottles by alphabetical order, reorganizing again in date of purchase. And she cooked. She cooked for a small army. Mashed potatoes, rabbit stew, stuffed Cokatolis - she cooked until it felt like the inside of an oven and her fingers were raw from scrubbing, tearing, slicing, and dicing.

In an exhausted huff, she collapsed to a dining chair. Her heart seized, and she forced herself not to cry. She would not shed anymore tears for the men that loved her and left her. It was a never-ending cycle of disappointment she was fated to endure, but she would not let it defeat her. Unlike her friend and past lover, she would not be a coward. She would hold her head up high and shoulders strong and unyielding.

So the moisture that leaked from her once bright irises was simply from the effect of the lingering fumes of the vidalia onions. The blush that radiated from her tear stricken face was merely the heat that baked her skin with it's unrelenting fury.

She didn't want to cry - but there was nothing else to do.

And when the night fell and she took to her bartending duties, her aura did not betray her. She carried on like nothing was amiss, like her taped up broken heart hadn't been drop kicked and fallen to sticky pieces. The charm oozed from her pores and sweet smile, a wink here and a wave there - nothing had changed as far as her staff and patrons were concerned. They wouldn't know she trying to force herself numb. As the rain fell in heavy sheets against the window panes, the insistent drumming of Mother Nature's sorrow, those around her would not know that inside Tifa Lockheart, the storm beyond did not compare.

When the final customer dragged himself from his stool, strolled into the tempest, and allowed the door fall shut behind him, the storm within continued on, but the brave face of a broken woman remained.

The rain never faltered, and she was certain that Gaia was thirsty for it. Tifa wanted to drown in it.

But on this fourth night, she cleaned the mess that was typical of a rainy evening, mopping the puddles from the floor she had administered to several hours earlier. The irony made her chuckle. She was always cleaning up after others messes, but no one stayed long enough to help her clean up her own.

The chore was complete, the mop and bucket secluded to a storage closet. When she turned to face the door, her heart fell to her stomach.

He stood there, soaked to the bone. Scarlet tresses sopped against his face, rivers flowing down his skin to his uniform and further where it collected in a pool surrounding his business issued dress shoes. His hands were not in his pockets but in fists at his sides. He did not smirk, but the expression reflected something between a scowl and something more melancholy that she couldn't place. His eyes...the lids drooped heavily over the emerald orbs so reading what was behind them was impossible.

The surprise in her own expression was evident, a hand to her chest as she took in the scene. He looked absolutely miserable.

The door flapped open behind him, the wind from the outdoors picking up velocity.

He simply stood there without a word.

There was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to scream at him, tear him up, beat him down, tell him he had no right to play with her heart and destroy it. She didn't ask for this, she didn't _want_ this, but he made it possible. His invitation was the beginning of the end, and now she was suffering because of it.

What she truly wished to do is to rush to him, drape her body over him, soaked or not, and relish in the desire that seemed to ignite and engulf her within his presence.

The sound of his voice snapped her from her reverie and held her fast.

He did not look at her.

"I've stared at magazines full of naked chicks, bent over, rubbing, caressing themselves. And porn - holy shit do I have some porn." His voice was steady and measured, just a few decibels above a whisper.

Tifa didn't move to interrupt. He was on the brink of a confession, and slowly, she felt her heart begin to mend.

"I've done a lot of bad shit in my life. I've gutted men, women, kicked dogs and shoved a blind guy into oncoming traffic. I've tried to kill you and your friends multiple times, all in the name of a paycheck."

Finally, his eyes were revealed to her, and what was within stalled her brain from any thought or retort from forming.

Reno's eyes revealed _longing_.

"And in light of all of that, all I can focus on is you. These past four days have been shit. I can't remember the last time I ate something. I think I've been drunk for at least a full two days, and normally that wouldn't be a big deal. When I go to pull out a cigarette, I remember you. I've had the same pack for almost two months."

"Reno..." the name died on her lips as she found him making his way toward her, his clothing against his body like a second skin, the squish of his shoes resounding against the bar walls.

"Tifa, do you have any idea what I'm trying to tell you? Do you have any inkling what this is, what I'm trying to get you to understand? How fucking insane this whole thing is? That I've tried to forget and I can't?"

She bit her bottom lip, hard, as she stared into his visage. Suddenly she was angry. Angry because he was blaming her. Her for the change in his persona, for the burst of emotion that blossomed after what was supposed to be one night of passion. "Why forget? What is so wrong with me that you have to forget?"

Reno's fists remained at his sides, shaking. His behavior seemed uncharacteristic - always quick with the wit and his feathers rarely, if ever, ruffled. But this - this change was potent and raw. Despite his damp physique, the heat radiated from his person like magma. "Because...you know why."

The martial artist shook her head, standing stern and strong, peering into his face without falter or fail. "No, I don't Reno. I don't know why. Explain it to me."

One word made her understand everything.

"Strife."

A torrent of emotion washed over her, the memories of her own longing, her bitter resentment and suffering from a man barely there. The unanswered phone calls, the vacant stares - he said he'd change, yet he still couldn't let go of a past that haunted him.

And it was then she came to the revelation she would wait no more.

Slowly, carefully, she reached for his fists. Tenderly touching his knuckles, fingertips grazing the taut flesh. He did not move nor pull away, his tense frame beginning to soften inch by inch. She was certain it was subconscious, as by his tone he wished to retain his dignity. "What if I told you I choose you?"

The Turk was silent for a long time, blinking and staring off. The fingertips at his knuckles motioned to unravel the tight fists. One by one, the digits came undone, though rigid and unyielding to further movement. "No games. Are you or are you not? I don't have time for this anymore."

The brash aggression was not much more than a defense, one Tifa was familiar with. The walls were climbing, reaching to protect what was left of him that could still feel. "Yes. You. I'm choosing you."

The longing was replaced with an elated joy he struggled to taper down. But his body reacted much faster than his mind, and she felt herself swept into his moist embrace, one she welcomed and returned. When his chilled lips came to rest upon hers, she eagerly returned his tender kiss. When hands moved to disrobe her, she did not interfere. The beat in her chest was thunderous and without pause. Their movements were slow, deliberate. They wanted to touch, to feel everything, every bit of the others' flesh.

They were on the floor before she knew it, their bodies garment-less as their limbs entwined, kisses made to her throat, her eye lids, her nose, and lips. He entered her softly, smoothly as her hips bucked to meet him, thighs clinging to his hips as the rhythm of their lovemaking commenced.

Because this time, it was much more than sex.

He called her name, and it entered her like a whisper on the wind. Her chest expanded with each thrust as he buried a hand into her dark hair as his other continued to provide leverage. They were two bodies in one, filled to the brim with an emotion neither thought one would hold for the other.

The release was an open floodgate, their bodies writhing together, names on their tongues as they held to each other for what seemed an eternity.

This was truly the beginning.

* * *

Reno didn't know what the Lifestream was like, but if it was anything like this he could die tomorrow with no regret.

The sun's burnt orange rays peaked through the shutters slits as he cracked an eye at their current surroundings. The rain had ceased sometime during the night and they were greeted by the morning chirp from the birds beyond. He wasn't sure when or how they got to her room, but the bed, though small, was much more comfortable than the bar floor.

It felt like a dream; his arms wrapped around a woman whom he'd never thought he would come to care for so deeply, and she returned it in full. The concept was a strange one, but the less questions that he asked of his own mind, the less likely he was to fuck it up.

Because he almost did.

His decision to leave her had painfully backfired. The idea of never seeing her again nearly crippled him in a way that he only saw in goopy romantic chick flicks where the guy professes his undying devotion to his lady in the rain because he has no balls or God damned sense.

Sure, some of his manhood had been sacrificed the previous night, but he'd be a Chocobo's uncle if it wasn't worth it. He called those suckers on the silver screen queer, but he understood now what it was to be affected so completely. It was still difficult to put into words, and he wondered if he'd ever say them at all. There was only so much sap this Turk was willing to subject himself to, and if he could at the very least refrain from using the four letter word of doom, he would.

He had done everything he could to forget about her - porn, thinking of Elena and Tseng boning, more porn, imaging what charred puppy corpses would taste like, Rude in a dress - nothing seemed to remove his daydreams from Tifa's brilliant eyes, soft smile, and huge boobs.

Yes, boobs. Some things he just couldn't change about himself.

With a smile on his face, he began to fade back into the world of quiet bliss when a booming baritone jarred him alert.

"Hey Tifa! We here!"

Before he knew what happened, Reno found himself face first on the bedroom floor. He groaned and motioned to stand. However, Tifa was upon like a ninja, clasping a hand over his mouth before he could mutter a word.

"You have to leave. Now. Right now." She whispered. It wasn't quite fear in her eyes, but a definite note of anxiety lingered behind the pupils.

Quickly, she removed her hand to find him frowning. "Why the hell do I have to?" he whispered back. Waking up in such a way left him a bit cranky.

The bartender didn't waste much time, throwing on a robe before coming to his scattered clothing and tossing them at him. They were still damp from the storm. "Barret's here. He's not supposed to be, but he is. Get dressed and leave through the window."

Reno parted his lips to protest, his arms full with his clothing, as he was shoved by his lover toward the window. "I thought you said you chose me."

The Turk nearly kicked himself. He was whining, and that was absolutely deplorable. What this woman did to him was fucking ridiculous. He was simply glad there was no one else around to see it. He'd never live it down if any of the other Turks caught wind of his immediate digression.

She was helping him put his clothes on like a child, her movements frantic. "Be right there!" She called over her shoulder before turning to the redhead, her gaze still nervous, but she forced a smile. "I did. I meant it. But it's...Barret. Certain things have to be broken to him gently."

An image of his head being smashed into the pavement gave him the push needed to slip on the remainder of his suit. His shoes were somewhere, and there was no time to find them. He'd rather risk tetanus than a Gunarm up his ass. "I see your point. But can't I - "

"No time!" With that, she flipped the clasp on the shutters and threw them open in haste. "Get out of here!"

With a defeated huff, he sauntered over to the open window, but not before claiming his lady's lips in a final kiss, pulling her against him. "Tell that big lug out there that his biceps make me cream myself. Maybe he'll be easy on me then."

Tifa suppressed a laugh as she untangled herself from his embrace. "Yes, yes. Now go!"

She fled from the room and slammed the door in her wake. He would never tire of watching her leave.

But he had to focus. He was going to have to climb out of a window - a two story window. Heights didn't bother him, but the fall had his ass twitching. Still, it was that or a whole different sort of pain directed at his posterior courtesy of a former Avalanche leader.

He sighed and slid out of the window. Gripping the ledge, he lowered himself to a hang. Cautiously, he placed his bare toes against the brick, the rough mortar hard and cold against his skin.

He felt like an idiot.

"Reno?"

And then he looked like one.

Hearing his own name startled the near piss out of him, and found himself lose the grip. It was too late to recover before he plummeted to the ground below. His legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed painfully onto his back.

A glare crossed his features as he turned slowly toward the keeper of the voice that caused his current state of misery. But out of a moment of recognition made his blood run a bit cold.

He knew the kid. And the kid knew Barret. The kid was probably going to tell Barret.

Fuck.

"...What are you looking at? Can't a grown man climb a building without being bothered?" He wasn't sure how dumb Denzel was as he'd only been around the kid for half a second in the past during the fiasco with the silver haired triplets, but he was sure going to try and weasel his way out of this one.

The Turk stood as the boy gazed up at him, his eyes hard and obstinate. Damn that kid had some balls. "You came from my home."

Reno scoffed, brushing himself off as he stood there. He should have run, all of his instincts were screaming for it. "Oh? This is your house? Well I'm so very sorry I chose your humble abode to practice my...uh...climbing exercises."

The kid frowned. It didn't seem he was as stupid as Reno hoped. "You came from Cloud and Tifa's window."

The comment stung him. It was a reminder of his competition, competition Tifa assured him he no longer had to worry about. Still, there was the ever present doubts that he couldn't shake no matter how sweet her kisses were. "Listen kid - grown ups like to do, uh, grown up things." His words tumbled from his mouth, and no matter how much he told himself it was a bad idea, he just kept talking. "And me and Tifa...we were having grown up time - "

Denzel's eyes grew as wide as saucers, and Reno knew he was in trouble. "You were having sex?"

Reno didn't have it in his genetics to be mortified. But if he did, he would have been at that moment. "How the hell do you know about that? Aren't you like, eight?" he sighed and went to plan B. "Okay, maybe, but, do me a solid and don't tell Barret, huh? I'd like to keep my pretty face pretty for just a bit longer."

There were several moments that passed where Denzel appeared to be thinking quite thoroughly about the request. Reno found himself staring at the young boy in anticipation. His life was on the line, and here was a child that witnessed his escape and knew way too much.

And by the grin on his childish visage, the Turk knew he was screwed.

"Barret!" Denzel bellowed as he darted from Reno before he grab the kid and silence him forever.

Now he ran.

* * *

Tifa barely made it to the bottom of the steps when she felt a tiny force run into her legs and grip them snugly. She reached down to return the gesture as much as she could due to the height difference and the fact there was nothing beneath the ankle length garment tied at her waist. "I didn't expect you guys back for a least another week."

Barret Wallace sat at one of the tables with his arms folded at his broad chest. The mechanical device on his arm was that of a hand, slick and menacing. She was glad Reno had taken her instruction and fled - he seemed to be in a pleasant mood, but his temper was too easy to spark, despite Marlene's constant scolding.

The girl at her legs pulled back to look up at the taller woman, beaming all the while. "Daddy has to go somewhere for work, but he said he'd come back in a few weeks and get us again."

The large man confirmed her words with a nod. "Found another oil field. Gonna get a jump start on getting the equipment up and running. I got enough people willing to work, so I shouldn't be tied up too long." He rubbed the back of his neck with the hand made of flesh and blood. "Hope ya don't mind. I wanted to call, but the kids wanted to surprise ya."

A smile lit her face as she shook her head in negation. Yep, she certainly was surprised... "Of course not. I'm glad you guys are here." She paused, her eyes searching the room. "Where's Denzel?"

A large grin spread over the large mans' face. "He was talkin' to some kid out front. A girl..heh heh."

Marlene's face scrunched in disapproval. Tifa found the little girls' jealousy amusing. Brother or boyfriend, it was too soon to tell how their destiny was to play out. "She pulls his hair and kicks dirt at him."

Wallace didn't disguise his hilarity, taking to laughter with a thunderous roar. This caused Marlene to snap her head at her father and scowl as much as the little girl could manage.

"Marlene, it just means she likes him." Lockheart attempted to reason with the child, but the look on her face told her she had no interest in the details.

Before the conversation could progress, the one in question came through the door, a grin on his face that told a story all it's own.

Barret seemed to have an idea what the plot may be. "Well, it looks like our Casanova made some headway! A heart-breaker this guys'..." he trailed off as Denzel waved to the dark man to bend over, reaching his lips to his ear for a whisper.

His eyes locked with Tifa's, and she felt the room spin.

It was a whisper, and Barret's face turned from perplexity to utter disbelief.

And then rage.

"WHAT?!" He burst from his seat, the table before him flipping as his lap connected with the edge and it clattered to the ground. The boy was taken aback, a touch of fear on his face.

Marlene looked on at her father in disappointment. She appeared unfazed by his tantrum. "Daddy, count to ten!"

The former Avalanche leader stared at his daughter before he breathed inwardly and began to mouth the numbers.

A feeling of trepidation became apparent to Tifa as Denzel appeared remorseful for his actions. It seemed Reno's hasty retreat was for naught, as he was spotted. She had hoped to drop hints slowly, allow the man to digest the news over a period of three to four months. Maybe years. Either way, selling her romance with a Turk was to prove quite a feat no matter when or where or how she decided to break the news. She just couldn't let it break her.

"Kids..." Barret had ended his count, his body tense, but at least he wasn't smashing or punching anything.

Yet.

"Go upstairs for a bit. I have to talk to Auntie Tifa."

Marlene opened her mouth to question the request, but Denzel took it upon himself to rush toward his mini companion and head up the stairs. The final look he cast Tifa's way was an apology.

The children retreated to the upper level, and Barret took to righting the table he had knocked completely askew. Tifa didn't move any closer, remaining by the stairs as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and awaited the inevitable.

"Do you know what he jus' told me?" the large man inquired, returning to his chair. His frame did not relax.

"I may have an idea." She replied carefully.

He sighed heavily. There was disappointment in his brown eyes. "A Turk, Tifa? Ain't you better than that?"

The scowl that made it's way to her face surprised even her. "Better than what? I'm an adult, Barret. I make my own choices, and who I choose to - "

He waved his arms into the air, his head shaking as though in a panic. "Holy shit, Tifa don't even say it! There ain't enough Esuna Materia out there to get rid o' the poison that image is gonna give me!"

Lockheart rolled her eyes at his reaction, though she should have expected it. Honestly, a part of her couldn't blame him. She could still recall every memory in which the Turks stood in their way or tried to end them for the sake of duty. "It just...happened..."

Barret lifted a curious brow. "Once?"

The bartender sighed, shaking her head. "A lot..."

There was a long pause before the conversation commenced. "Then it didn't just _happen_. Tifa..." he seemed to be cautiously considering his words to her. "You is one of the smartest ladies that I know. This ain't one of the smarter decisions I've seen you make since I've known you."

There was a fire that sparked within her. A fire not easily snuffed. Did he so suddenly forget that there was someone else that was supposed to be living in their home that every so often fell off the face of the Planet to chase phantoms? "And waiting for someone who isn't here even when he _is _here is a smart decision?"

The look in his eyes told her that he realized his mistake. "I didn't say all that..."

But she wasn't letting him off the hook. Not in the slightest. "Then what are you saying? Are you telling me I'm stupid for falling for someone other than a ghost of a man?"

Her friend shook his head, waving a hand to support his words. "I ain't said you were stupid, Tifa. I..." he stopped and watched her expression become sour with indignation. "Sorry. Maybe I kinda did. I didn't mean it like that."

"I wish you wouldn't be so quick to judge something you don't understand," she scolded, but her tone rapidly began to soften. She could never stay angry at him for long. "We've spent a lot of time together and...I think...I think there's..."

There was a break in the tension, and though the smile was forced, Barret Wallace smiled nonetheless. He was trying to understand if only for her sake. "I gotcha. I don't like it, but I get it. Loneliness I guess can create bonds that normally wouldn't exist."

She came to him then, taking to a chair across from him. She reached both hands to take one of his. One hand was able to envelope both of hers. "It started as that, Barret. But it has nothing to do with it anymore. Please understand that."

It all was coming together so much easier than anything she had planned in her head. His understanding was swift, even if he did not approve of the union. It made her happy, and that's all he was truly concerned with.

He squeezed her hands, much like a father would a daughter, gazing at her with tired eyes. The fight was gone from him. "I love you, Tif. I don't want to see you hurt."

She gave a small smile at that. "I've already been hurt. Now I'm making myself better, and he's helping me."

Barret chuckled, and the sound of it made her warm to her very core. "Spike's a real dumbass, ain't he?" He shook his head, pulling back to fold his arms at his chest once more. "Well, you tell that Turk that...that if he fucks with you, in the, uh, not good way, that I'm gonna bust him up good."

There was nothing more to say. She smiled and nodded.

"Now that that's done...what's a man gotta do to get some food up in here?"

Tifa recalled the night before, and remembered the feast she cooked in her time of woe. "I think I can help you with that."


End file.
